The fickle hand of fate cast him off as a patriot and returned him just as confidently in the guise of traitor.

The young boy stares back at him with wide, curious eyes. Oblivious. Innocent.

Then the bell tolls midday, the trap opens and the noose does its short work.



The crater was like the shell. The ground torn open to expose her amongst the misery, death and suffering. He found her there, a survivor some how against all the odds. Wrapped in white, innocent and ignorant of all the terrible crimes around her, like the pearl at its heart.


I asked my partner to suggest the word at random, she chose ‘pearl’ and I wrote this.