A TOAD IN THE HOLE, A SHORT STORY BY EAGLE BRAVE

                                                                               

                                                                             

                                                          A TOAD IN THE HOLE

                                                                   by Eagle Brave

Why am I here? I asked myself! I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t! 

I tried to touch; everything I touched had a shape of sponge very soft and smooth! 

I tried to open my mouth and shout I couldn’t! I was in a very big deep hole. 

I slapped my face to wake myself up; still my mind was very far! I was very thirsty but couldn’t see any water there! 

My stomach was making noise, I was very hungry I needed food; I couldn’t see any food there!

 I thought I was going to die. In my dream, I could see myself breathing the last breath. 

On other side, my mind tells me to keep fighting! 

I breathed in and breathed out strongly! I manage to open my eyes. 

In front of me, was a very tall creature I have never seen before! I closed my eyes and say ‘oh God help me! 

That’s when I heard a big voice bursting through my ears like thunderstorm ‘run!’ I started running towards the end of the path! 

I couldn’t see where I was going! After a short run, another block! A big hole in front of me with water on it, before I decide what to do, I see a toad from the other side of the path jumping in the hole! 

There were thunderstorms and breezes! Something squished my ears 

‘What was that? ‘She asked,

’A toad in the hole ‘I replied. 

‘That’s not a toad, that’s a frog’ she said! 

Then I heard another voice,’Jump!’

 ‘Jump to where?’ I asked .

Before I say anything else I felt a push behind my back. I was on my way down to another hole. I shouted loud ‘no way ‘and I was up sweating on my bed. 

I looked around, my wife was looking at me

'What’s wrong with you tonight?’ she asked.

’ Am having bad dreams, where are we? I asked her

’ In Yorkshire’ she replied. 

 "What did we have for dinner last night? I asked her.

’A toad in the hole’ she replied! 

I switched off light, cuddle her and go back to sleep while saying to myself’ It wasn’t a toad in the hole; it was a toad in the hell.' Good night!.

MOONWALK DANCING ON LEITH WALK a short story by Eagle Brave

                                                                                           

MOONWALK DANCING ON LEITH WALK

by Eagle Brave

Lightly edited by Tom Leonard

DRAFT VERSION ONLY

Leith streets are overwhelmed with the arrival of a Michael Jackson type of artist from the Czech Republic. Everyone is talking about his moonwalk moves if not his big cowboy hat, long cloak, and silver shoes. You could get to see him doing his moon walk in the morning when is walking up to Prince Street or in the evening when is going back down to Constitution Street. He could throw his big cloak around in mind blowing style; lift up his cowboy hats several times while doing his moon walk dance. In the morning, you could see people at their windows watching at him doing his moonwalk dance, the same in the evening when is going back to the bottom of Leith. No one knew where he lived .In evening you will find him at the Shore Man pub in Leith doing his Michael Jackson impressionist. People laughing and buy him drinks. He didn’t obviously have a proper job.

Today I am here at the local Shore Man pub in Leith, the second home of Michael Jackson of Leith. It is around 1800 pm, still can’t find him. The pub is so crowded; our dour and totally obstructive local MSP Mr John Wilhelm Beethoven is here too. We just had a local meeting with the council about Trams extension in Leith. After the meeting, we all decided to meet at the Shore Man to get to see The Michael Jackson of Leith. Lenora the green activist who is totally opposing the idea of constructing the trams in Leith is at the pub too. I can also see two fascist tram-workers Matilda and Patricia who are sitting the same table with the obstreperous Mr Beethoven. On the other side of the pub, I see the Mafioso-esque representatives of the corrupt Italian firm who are trying to win the construction deal.

While I am still looking around, Michael Jackson of Leith walked in. He walked in with style, twirling his coat, pressing his hat side to side and doing his moonwalk dance. Everyone shouted Michael, Michael. He is introduced to our local MSP and had a photo taken together by one of Edinburgh evening news photographers. Lenora, the green activist holds Michael Jackson hands, and start dancing moonwalk together. I had seen enough ,I walked out and go to my house for a good night after a long day .

The next morning I was up early, go to the shop, buy the Edinburgh morning newspaper. I looked at the front page; there was a photo of our local MP and Michael Jackson dancing together. I laughed and walk away. On my way to my house at Elm Row Street I saw Michael Jackson and Lenora entering in Mac Donald Library holding their hands together. I was passionate to know what’s going on! I followed them and went sit beside their table, act like reading something from the book. Michael Jackson was telling Lenora he has been getting free bus fair money from Mr Beethoven and uses that money for Gin and Tonic, in return for dancing with the MSP all the way down Leith Walk to Wetherspoons. He also reveals that he is not really into Michael Jackson. He is a representative of Czech Republic firm who are trying to win the trams contract from the Italians. He persuaded Lenora to join him; she will get reward after the company securing the contract. He also told Lenora he is not actually from Czech Republic, he is from London and he is an accountant .To confirms that, two other members of that Czech Republic firm arrived to meet Lenora. I walked out; make a call to my friend Nick who is the writer of evening news. I gave him a short brief of Michael Jackson. He asked me to get their photo together; Michael Jackson and Lenora .I managed to do that and send to him. 

In the evening the whole story was in the news .The photo I took of Michael Jackson and Lenora was on front page. I tried to reach our local MSP Mr John Wilhelm Beethoven; I was told he just had a heart attack. I couldn’t care less, I was happy to save some millions of working hard people, paying their taxes. I put my jacket on and walk down to Easter roads doing moonwalk like Michael Jackson to watch Hibernian football club game. It was a good evening.

A PROMISE, a poem by Eagle Brave

                                                                                                              

A PROMISE

by Eagle Brave

Some call me the arrival,

Some call me a survivor,

Some call me the lost one,

I call myself number one,

Nine months in my months in my mom’s womb,

I couldn’t hear anything than a comb,

Now I am her crying,

I came here smiling,

Surrounded by sad faces,

Different nations, different races,

I want to go back I can’t,

I want to fight back! That’s right,

Pollution, diseases everywhere,

Earthquakes, tsunamis not fair,

I was promised a beautiful land,

My excitement! Buried to the sand,

I smell blood, nations fighting,

Innocent children, women killing,

Hunger, poverty everywhere,

I want to go back, nowhere,

I look up the sky; the sun tells me fight,

I look up the clouds, the moon tells right,

The big seas, oceans I hear voice,

Fight for your right, that’s the choice,

I say to myself I’m brave,

I will fight to the grave,

Wisdom, integrity my weapon,

My stay here is for a season.

THE POETIC SOUL a birthday poem

                                                                   
                                                                   

                                                                           

                                                                 THE POETIC SOUL

                                                                


                                             The poetic soul of Tom is with Penny

                                             In Kelso.

                                             The poetic soul of Tom is with Penny
                                             
                                             In Dirleton.

                                             It is a statistician's soul.

                                             It is a chess-playing soul.

                                             It is a Quaker soul.

                                             Above all, Tom is a hospitable soul.

                                             I have witnessed his hospitality

                                             Almost ever week in Pearce's

                                             And every so often here in La Vittoria

                                             Where we witness his hospitality today

                                             On the occasion of Tom's 70th birthday

                                             Where we experience his poetic soul

                                             Of Quaker hospitality.

                                             God bless Tom.

                                             Always.

                                                           24th March 2018