The Red, the White, the Green…
Some things have to be believed
Before they can be seen…
…I knew the wood vaguely but even had I known it intimately this headlong dash through the shadows would have been new to me.
Rough, spindly fingers kept grabbing at my hair and clothes, scratching at my face, but we kept on running…
The phrase ‘break-neck pace’ kept flashing through my mind yet eventually the rhythm of it ensnared my qualms and propelled me back to the school room and my old letter-man Seamus.
‘The name is alien,’ he was saying to me with a familiar glint in his eye, and I thought again of the hard ‘Cee’ followed by the rolled ‘Arr’ which caught in my throat like the caw of a Black-Bird.
Continue reading at France and Vincent