Friday, June 3, 2011

Flash Fiction Fridays: Escape


Cleveland W. Gibson starts off June month with a magical tale of transformation. Enjoy.


The Totem Pole Escape 
By Cleveland W. Gibson


I am a jungle Totem pole, so scared of the night, because bad things happen, things I can't put right.

I am scared of little things, things you might not see, but they all have long legs, and walk and walk on me.

I feel the lick of the spider, the patter of hairy feet, the snakes also keep coming. Ugh! Beetles never look neat.

It is because when it comes to walking, I feel I have the curse, I cannot escape or leave this jungle, for better or for worse. And I must.

Then I heard that sound, in the middle of the night, the devil striking matches, turning dark into daylight.

The flames creep up from tiny, they grow to terror tall, dwarfing all the green trees, me too, who now looks small.

Up high in a soot-black forest, the smoke curls to the sky, but trouble didn't end there and it's why I know I cry. The chainsaws cuts the trees, one day they'll see me too, their blade attacks will weaken me but what else can I do?

I call up the moon spirit, shout her beauty is divine, do lots of things like that, I act while there is still time.

As Miakoda's name hits the wind crowds wait and wait to see, a wonder in the moonlight, what walks away is only me!

As I hear the kettle drums, I'm itching to the beat, I look down at the ground to see I've grown two feet.

What a wonder of wonders, and it's kind of true, my height has dropped to inches around sixty-two. I see the jolly scarecrow, love the jacket tweed, the dandy hat and braces, I borrow all I need.

My face keeps on shining, I'm dapper you see. A pole dressed to kill? Who else can it be? I'm in the pub drinking two pints good and strong, 'til the Morris men come, invite from me a song. I shake my legs and dance, my wooden feet click a treat, the crowd go wild clapping, dogs chase me in the street.

Come morning and first light, I feel the fever spring, hot cross buns a quiver, my God, I love to sing!

Then quickly out of a time zone, I look towards the sea. I hear a marching band, grim-faced men after me. Closer still the Press Gang, marching to click and beat, heading for the famous pub, bang men on head they greet.

My legs are full of beer, plenty in my head, I catch a noggin pin, and think I'm only dead. But I've escaped at last to...the Land of Dreams.



Cleveland W. Gibson is the author digital shorts Silver Wolf and Only the Best, plus several others available through amazon.com. He was born in colonial India in an atmosphere of colour, mystery and intrigue. In the UK, he worked in the government, trained as a life guard and was a road race director for over ten years. Since taking up writing, he’s published over 200 short stories, poems, articles in more than eighty-five countries. His current project is a fantasy novel, House of the Skull Drum

Photo courtesy of the Native American Encyclopedia

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