shortstoriesandpoems

Love

2008-11-14T06:23:00.000-08:00

This poem was written at a time where my emotions were overflowing. Okay, it sounds very cliched but it's true. Enjoy the poem. It's based on real experiences.

Love

We started out as friends and now it’s love.
How beautiful to move so easily

From friendship to something else,
Pure gain, with no rough edges to remove.
This turn was nothing I'd been thinking of,
No maybe or perhaps, consciously.
I knew desire, but love was not for me
Until I felt my heart from friendship move.
I never felt as happily at home
As I do now, so rich in what life brings.
Your pleasure now is mine, as mine is yours.

The Sniper by Liam O'Flaherty

2008-11-12T00:00:00.000-08:00

Note: This story is not written by me. But I found it to be so interesting that I decided it would be good to share it with all of you here. Enjoy.

The Sniper
by LIAM O'FLAHERTY

The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey. Around the beleaguered Four Courts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms. Republicans and Free Staters were waging civil war.

On a rooftop near O'Connell Bridge, a Republican sniper lay watching. Beside him lay his rifle and over his shoulders was slung a pair of field glasses. His face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. They were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used to looking at death.

He was eating a sandwich hungrily. He had eaten nothing since morning. He had been too excited to eat. He finished the sandwich, and, taking a flask of whiskey from his pocket, he took a short drought. Then he returned the flask to his pocket. He paused for a moment, considering whether he should risk a smoke. It was dangerous. The flash might be seen in the darkness, and there were enemies watching. He decided to take the risk.

Placing a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match, inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out the light. Almost immediately, a bullet flattened itself against the parapet of the roof. The sniper took another whiff and put out the cigarette. Then he swore softly and crawled away to the left.

Cautiously, he raised himself and peered over the parapet. There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over his head. He dropped immediately. He had seen the flash. It came from the opposite side of the street.He rolled over the roof to a chimney stack in the rear, and slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the parapet. There was nothing to be seen--just the dim outline of the opposite housetop against the blue sky. His enemy was under cover.

Just then an armored car came across the bridge and advanced slowly up the street. It stopped on the opposite side of the street, fifty yards ahead. The sniper could hear the dull panting of the motor. His heart beat faster. It was an enemy car. He wanted to fire, but he knew it was useless. His bullets would never pierce the steel that covered the gray monster.

Then round the corner of a side street came an old woman, her head covered by a tattered shawl. She began to talk to the man in the turret of the car. She was pointing to the roof where the sniper lay. An informer.The turret opened. A man's head and shoulders appeared, looking toward the sniper. The sniper raised his rifle and fired. The head fell heavily on the turret wall. The woman darted toward the side street. The sniper fired again. The woman whirled round and fell with a shriek into the gutter.

Suddenly from the opposite roof a shot rang out and the sniper dropped his rifle with a curse. The rifle clattered to the roof. The sniper thought the noise would wake the dead. He stooped to pick the rifle up. He couldn't lift it. His forearm was dead. "I'm hit," he muttered.
Dropping flat onto the roof, he crawled back to the parapet. With his left hand he felt the injured right forearm. The blood was oozing through the sleeve of his coat. There was no pain--just a deadened sensation, as if the arm had been cut off.

Quickly he drew his knife from his pocket, opened it on the breastwork of the parapet, and ripped open the sleeve. There was a small hole where the bullet had entered. On the other side there was no hole. The bullet had lodged in the bone. It must have fractured it. He bent the arm below the wound. the arm bent back easily. He ground his teeth to overcome the pain.Then taking out his field dressing, he ripped open the packet with his knife. He broke the neck of the iodine bottle and let the bitter fluid drip into the wound. A paroxysm of pain swept through him. He placed the cotton wadding over the wound and wrapped the dressing over it. He tied the ends with his teeth.

Then he lay still against the parapet, and, closing his eyes, he made an effort of will to overcome the pain.In the street beneath all was still. The armored car had retired speedily over the bridge, with the machine gunner's head hanging lifeless over the turret. The woman's corpse lay still in the gutter.

The sniper lay still for a long time nursing his wounded arm and planning escape. Morning must not find him wounded on the roof. The enemy on the opposite roof covered his escape. He must kill that enemy and he could not use his rifle. He had only a revolver to do it. Then he thought of a plan.

Taking off his cap, he placed it over the muzzle of his rifle. Then he pushed the rifle slowly upward over the parapet, until the cap was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a report, and a bullet pierced the center of the cap. The sniper slanted the rifle forward. The cap clipped down into the street. Then catching the rifle in the middle, the sniper dropped his left hand over the roof and let it hang, lifelessly. After a few moments he let the rifle drop to the street. Then he sank to the roof, dragging his hand with him.

Crawling quickly to his feet, he peered up at the corner of the roof. His ruse had succeeded. The other sniper, seeing the cap and rifle fall, thought that he had killed his man. He was now standing before a row of chimney pots, looking across, with his head clearly silhouetted against the western sky.

The Republican sniper smiled and lifted his revolver above the edge of the parapet. The distance was about fifty yards--a hard shot in the dim light, and his right arm was paining him like a thousand devils. He took a steady aim. His hand trembled with eagerness. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath through his nostrils and fired. He was almost deafened with the report and his arm shook with the recoil.

Then when the smoke cleared, he peered across and uttered a cry of joy. His enemy had been hit. He was reeling over the parapet in his death agony. He struggled to keep his feet, but he was slowly falling forward as if in a dream. The rifle fell from his grasp, hit the parapet, fell over, bounded off the pole of a barber's shop beneath and then clattered on the pavement.
Then the dying man on the roof crumpled up and fell forward. The body turned over and over in space and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.

The sniper looked at his enemy falling and he shuddered. The lust of battle died in him. He became bitten by remorse. The sweat stood out in beads on his forehead. Weakened by his wound and the long summer day of fasting and watching on the roof, he revolted from the sight of the shattered mass of his dead enemy. His teeth chattered, he began to gibber to himself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursing everybody.

He looked at the smoking revolver in his hand, and with an oath he hurled it to the roof at his feet. The revolver went off with a concussion and the bullet whizzed past the sniper's head. He was frightened back to his senses by the shock. His nerves steadied. The cloud of fear scattered from his mind and he laughed.

Taking the whiskey flask from his pocket, he emptied it a drought. He felt reckless under the influence of the spirit. He decided to leave the roof now and look for his company commander, to report. Everywhere around was quiet. There was not much danger in going through the streets. He picked up his revolver and put it in his pocket. Then he crawled down through the skylight to the house underneath.

When the sniper reached the laneway on the street level, he felt a sudden curiosity as to the identity of the enemy sniper whom he had killed. He decided that he was a good shot, whoever he was. He wondered did he know him. Perhaps he had been in his own company before the split in the army. He decided to risk going over to have a look at him. He peered around the corner into O'Connell Street. In the upper part of the street there was heavy firing, but around here all was quiet.

The sniper darted across the street. A machine gun tore up the ground around him with a hail of bullets, but he escaped. He threw himself face downward beside the corpse. The machine gun stopped.

Then the sniper turned over the dead body and looked into his brother's face.

Rhapsody

2008-11-10T01:42:00.000-08:00

'I’m going to be late for my tuition class,' I thought to myself as I jogged to my tuition teacher’s house. I was sure that my fierce Mathematics teacher would not listen to my excuses, no matter how good they were. I stepped up my pace.

Finally, I saw the bright yellow gates of my teacher's house. Why they were painted yellow, I will never know. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I realized that I was not late for class. I reached out my hands to push open the gates.

Suddenly, I felt a slight tremor beneath my feet. I was shaken, literally. I turned and looked behind me. Sure enough, I saw that the ground was shaking vigorously. Trees were being uprooted and cars overturned. Not only that, I saw a thin fissure slowly coming towards me. It took a second for my mind to register that a fissure; the kind you saw only in the CGI enhanced movies, was heading right at me. It took another second for my brain to communicate the need to run to my legs.

So I ran. However, the fissure was gaining momentum as the crack slowly widened. I dropped my tuition bag. Somewhere deep in my mind, I; or rather my subconscious mind, breathed a huge sigh of relief. 'There goes my books! Yay!' But the joy was shortlived as I felt the sharp jaws of the fissure snapping at my heels. I was about to give up when the earth stopped shaking.

I stopped running and looked back, panting hard. The crevice had opened up a large opening. I took a cautious step forward. The gap was wide enough for me to just slip through. I was just a teeny, weeny bit scared, mind you, but curiosity took hold of me. I proceeded to go down into the hole, all thought of my tuition class gone. As the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat but in this case, it could have killed me. I took a deep breath and stepped forward into the gaping chasm.

The first thing that came into my mind was that I was falling. I tried to grab on to something but the walls were smooth. I mentally scolded myself for getting myself into this situation. Now I know how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. Except in her case, she was drinking tea and talking to herself all the way down. Then, I re-thought about my situation and finally decided that no one had tried a freefall without any equipment. I had a sense of pride for myself for such an achievement.

Luckily the fall was a relatively short one. My feet touched the rocky bottom. It was amazing that I didn't break any bones. I was like a gymnast who could always land on his feet. Another wave of pride washed over me. It was dark but my eyes soon adjusted to the darkness. I looked around and found a small winding path. I had no choice but to follow it. The path was crooked and the ground was uneven. I blindly groped in the semi-darkness, trying to follow the path, which I could not even see clearly, not knowing where it would take me.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of pure groping around, I saw light up ahead. Eagerly, I set off towards the light, tripping over my feet several times. Finally, I stepped out into a huge cavern. I shielded my eyes against the brightness. After a long ime in the darkness, the light was blindingly painful. Slowly, I tried to open my eyes, but it was after a long while that I could finally see the cavern.

In stark contrast to the dark and dreary path I had followed, the cavern seemed like heaven. However, my amazement multiplied as my mind began to analyze my surroundings. The whole cavern was brightly lit, but there were no torches or lamps. For a split second, I thought that I had reached the exit. I looked around for the cave opening but all I could see was solid rock around me.

Then I saw the flowers. Pasture after pasture of flowers, all in different colours. I examined a flower with green petals and a bright yellow stalk. I noticed that all the flowers were similiar to the ones Mom planted in our garden, despite the weird colours. There were also plenty of trees all around. Like the flowers, the trees had weird colours. The trees came in all shapes and sizes. There was a tree with a blue trunk and bright red leaves. The whole cavern had a dream-like aura around it. I nearly fell asleep.

Suddenly, I saw a movement. A little man, no higher than my knee, was busily watering the flowers. The little man had a long, white beard and a pair of bushy white eyebrows. He was wearing a red pointed hat and he wore tunics. He looked very familiar but I could not recall where I had seen him before. He could not see me as he had his back to me.

I went closer to the little man.

“Hey, do you know where we are?” I shouted loudly. The cavern re-echoed with my question. The little man turned around slowly and his eyebrows shot up. Until now, I will never forget the look on his face, in particular his eyes. His eyes were bright yellow and they gleamed menacingly at me. I had never seen such dangerous looking eyes. It was as though his eyes were the barrel of a gun, loaded and ready to shoot. I quickly averted my own eyes, but the memory of the eyes was still fresh in my mind.

The little man muttered something under his breath. Then he opened his mouth, revealing a set of razor sharp teeth. Suddenly, he squealed; an ear-piercing squeal similar to the sound of fingernails scratching a blackboard. I covered my ears to block out the painful sound. Suddenly, I was aware of several similar pairs of gleaming yellow eyes trained on me. But before I could move, the first little man jumped on me. He attacked me like a wild beast, screaming unintelligible words. I tried to throw him off me but he clung on to me like a spider with its prey. He scratched me with his sharp claws and bit me.

I was trying hard to escape from the little man’s clutches. However, the pairs of eyes that were coldly staring at me just a moment before lunged out. More little men joined in the fray. They clung on to my clothes, biting and scratching. I cried out in pain as I felt a set of teeth clamp down on my shoulder. I could feel blood oozing down my shoulder and from numerous other wounds all over my body. I began to lose consciousness. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.

“How will it be?” I asked myself. “Will it be slow and painful or will I have a quick and painless death?”

There was liquid running down my face. I thought it was my own blood. The liquid flowing down my face was ice cold. Again, my subconsciousness kicked in. 'I must be cold blooded.' I told myself.

I slowly opened my eyes and wiped the liquid from my eyes. I looked around groggily and saw my sister with a hose in her hands. She aimed the hose at me again and unleashed another jet of water.

“Sleeping beauty awakes!” she said sarcastically. “Mom asked us to work in the garden and someone dozed off. You lazy bum."

“Dozed off?” I asked, spluttering. The events all came back to me in a rush. Frantically, I looked at my arms but there were no scratches or bite marks. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. It was all just a dream. But then again, the dream had seemed so real. The pain, the surroundings. They all seemed so real. I shook my head and stood up. My shoulder ached painfully. I rolled up my sleeves and looked at my shoulder.

There was a circular bite mark on my shoulder. It was a deep, jagged mark. Suddenly I was sweating hard. I stood up and headed towards the house, still examining my shoulder. I looked up suddenly and came face to face with one of the little men. I gave a high pitched scream and jumped at least a foot high. But then, I saw my sister's face behind the little man.

“Someone is afraid of a garden gnome!” she teased in a sing-song voice. "You wimp!"

“I was not!” I retorted back, but my knees were shaking hard. I remembered that my mother had bought some garden gnomes a week before to decorate the garden but I had totally forgotten about them until now. Again, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“Kids!” my mother’s voice called out from inside the house. “Come in for snacks!”

“Okay, Mom. We’re coming!” my sister shouted back. She put down the garden gnome and ran into the house. I took one last look at the garden gnome. He seemed perfectly harmless. No dangerous yellow eyes and no razor sharp teeth and claws. I sighed. But suddenly…

The gnome winked at me.

2008-11-10T01:11:00.000-08:00

This is a new blog for my short stories and poems.

I will try my best to update it as often as possible so please bear with me.

For all the hard work I have put in in writing these stories, please do not go around copying and pasting it around on your own blogs without first informing me. The stories are copyrights of this blog.

Thank you for understanding and enjoy the stories!

LeonHart90