The Dream Master.  


from July 2014

Song Bird Songs


(Flash Fiction)

The class awaits the teacher, the beach smooth, serene. Waves trimmed with white lace splash upon the sand. He comes now. The crowd puts everything down to tune in to his coming.

Following his signal a young girl steps towards him. Taking her hand he leads her into the waves till the ocean stretches vast around them, serene and tranquil.

He splashes her in a playful game, the water making patterns in the air. It’s as if he can at will slow it down so all can watch the course of the tiny droplets. They look, mesmerized as light refracts rainbow colors on the dancing drops, patterns forming, fluctuating, cascading.

“Like life,” he says, “you need to slow down to appreciate it, even to see it”.

They stand watching the droplets in gentle motion, so pure a white.

“Things about you are fleeting, that’s why you need to…

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Peace reigned over the bloody terrain. Ahmed shouldered his weapon. It was over. Carrion appeared on the horizon. They’d feast today! It was finished, the final battle. What had happened he couldn’t say. There had been some sort of intervention.

This morning he had reconciled himself to death. There seemed no other outcome. The world leader was invincible, superior numbers, weaponry, yes and something more, something that had whisked him to power in the first place. Resistance was futile, he’d known that from the beginning, but what other course was there, only total and complete annihilation. Better to go down fighting!

But he had not died. Here he stood watching as vast numbers of birds descended as if summoned upon the heaped dead.

What had stopped them? Was it the blinding lights that descended as a lightning storm around them as they fought? His eyes dazzled he had seen nothing, heard nothing save the scream of the wind as it rushed among them. When he opened his eyes bodies lay in jumbled heaps, faces distorted in horror.   Yet he and his companions were unharmed, open mouthed, trembling. Thousands upon thousands lay slain about them as the blood pooled to lurid pools and lakes of crimson.

Where the commander was he had no idea, perhaps he lay slain also amidst the mounds of bodies. The tyrant’s power was broken. They could begin again, rebuild.

A watery sun was rising as he and his compatriots trudged up out of the valley of Megiddo, the battle of Armageddon was over, the task of burying the dead barely begun!


(A story drawn from the book of Revelation and old testament predictions – scripture buffs I’m aware of the many possible interpretations. It is not my goal to promote any just to create an interesting and unusual story).