The Harbour

They decide to take one last walk around the harbour.
Many thoughts clogging both their minds keeping them
silent to each other. Their hands tightly graspsed so
tightly, the diamond ring that he bought her begins to
pierce his finger, he dare not loosen his grip, he never
wants to let her go.
They look out passed the calm green waters. The wind 
blowing the air straight towards them, they smell the sea 
and taste the salt. With yesterdays news at the forefront
of his mind he sighs, knowing he will miss this beautiful
sight, but not nearly as much as her and all her ways.
 The seagulls circle the trawler, singing with excitment.
A scurrying crab distracts and his eyes follow noticing
the boats coming in. Just behind the rocks where they first
kissed. A lonely tear rolls down his face.
He looks to the heavens and pleads for another option, he 
waits but no reply comes back. The hardest decision of his
tormented life, he sighs again in acceptence knowing he's
the man chosen to do it. Carrying his responsibilty, like 
the cross.

April Sky

I gaze at the marble church as we pull into the hospital.
Not one space in the car park to be found. 3,4 minutes now
the numbness stood down as the irratation is wound.
A moment away from jumping the walls of this rolling penitentiary,
as Vinny darts into a gap on the grass verge, which has been waiting
with a sympathetic heart.
My Mother takes out her phone an calls Mark, the family liaison officer "I'll be waiting at the main entrance" I hear him say.
My Mother is starting to look empty inside. I muster up a smile,
she accepets with one of her own, and for a second it was like her
daughter was still alive.
I see the florescent coat first, then the man, standing straight with hat respectfully tucked under his arm. We greet an he's polite.
"It's just up here, a bit of construction being done on the next
building" he said. As some idiot comes speeding passed us, Mark takes his reg.
The sound of machinery distracts, an with each step becomes louder.
And I wish I was still imprisoned in that rolling penitentiary as I see a solitary buiding that reads 'chapel of rest'.
Anxiety pollutes my brain, we enter and I'm hit with leaflets of grief and loss. There is one lonely blue door, my kid sister on the other side. There is speaking but not one word do I hear. I feel my Grandmothers hand touch my back, with each tap I'm filled with strength. The door opens my mother goes in, then does Vinny, but I can't. I throw my tabs and hault. Again I feel my Grandmothers hand and with love she guids me through. There she is, our kid, our Charlotte, she just looks like shes sleeping, lazy cow.
I'm unsure how long I stared or what they were all doing, but I just coudn't take it any longer, big rain drops of tears uncontrolably stream from my eyes and splash out of there perfect aerodynamic shapes into messy puddles of hurt.
I kiss her an I'm hit with an unforgiving shock of lightening as the coldness from the empty shell of her body freezes somewhere in my heart now never to return. I remove my lips and it takes the man in me to hold this confused and frightened little boy together.
"My little baby girl" again, I hear her say "my little baby girl".
My hands grip the metal support bars on her bed I shake them through fear getting firmer and regular.
"Wake her up Mum" I demand "tell her to get up Mum". They all know im a slight breeze away from loosing control.
My Mother looks at me calmly and says " she never listens to me anyway Karl". Tears again burst from my eyes.
I head out of the room and my Grandmother holds me tightly. I've never felt so close to Gran. There's things in life you cant do alone, and I know this is one of them.
I find myself outside on a little brickwall, I take in a deep breath.
I become fixed on a workman smoking, he receives a text an laughs. Today to him is just today, like yesterday was just to us yesterday.
I look up, a beautiful and blue clear sky that's so calming to me.
And I know untill the day I'm knocking on heavens door, I'll forever long, for the April sky.

My Old Friend

Winter became more than whispers
from the white tipped leaves,
as the coldness from the metal 
imobilised his hands.
I watch his body stiffen as an
icey gale attacks and condems, like
an unjust judge.
I see through his eyes that his pain
runs deeper and more painfull than
the elements. And like these dark clouds,
he fills, and like his love he weeps.
O' how his tears pierce a hole in my heart.
And I know i'll miss my old friend.

The Witches Of Pendle

In what they say was a dark corner of the land in an age of conversion, three men die. Was the cause really witchcraft? ‘Yes’ says the Justice of Peace, Mr. Roger Nowell a non-conformist. Seeking justice, seeking favour from the King? King James I, author of ‘demonology’ of sorcery and magic how to expose a witch.

Holy Friday 1612, in this time of fear, fear of evil, politics, and of treason all loyal subjects are summons to communion. All abide except for the women of Malkin Tower who tell fortunes to make ends meet. Instead, they partied, drank, and danced around skulls. The noise is heard and the witch hunt begins.

Ten arrested,locked in Lancaster Castle while the towns folk and magistrates await the state theatricals to begin. No privy council just one star witness a frightened nine-year-old girl, a girl in tears having to stand on a table for judge, jury, and accused to see. She is also the daughter of one of the accused, Elizabeth Device. In a very calm and well-spoken manner almost as if coerced the girl condemns them all. Guilty and to the gallows they’re sent.

Crowds gather at gallows hill to watch the convicted witches be strangled by the nooce, and only for a penny or two. One young watcher Janne fixed on the hangmans rope. The crowd go silent in horror as some take twenty minutes an more to pass. Family members of the condemed break rank an pull on the legs of their loved ones to ease the suffering of their slow painful deaths.

Eighty years later three thousand miles away 19 are hanged in the witch trials of Salem. Again through the witnesses of children. In the magistrates hand, Thomas Potts’ notes of the Pendle trial detailing children fit for diagnosing witchcraft. Like the nine-year-old Jannet Device who’s words saw her mother hang, she saw her mother hang.