Armistice Day #writephoto

Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt this week is

Larry liked to be alone, not with the others. No show, no bloody bugle. The sun caught his spectacles and he was instantly transported back 70 odd years to that room, somewhere near Mannheim, Jock slowly dying in his arms as the sun filled the windows, defying the chaos outside. A tear slipped down his cheek, momentarily blinding him.
Larry jumped; something hit his chest and fell into his lap. A lad, maybe 8 or 9 gawped at Larry in horror while somewhere behind him a woman’s voice remonstrated with the youngster.
‘For heaven’s sake, Roly, can’t you stand still for a moment.’
Larry looked at the ball, nestling in his blanket. Roly. That was Jock’s real name. How odd.
‘I’m so sorry sir.’ The woman sounded mortified. ‘I told him it was 2 minutes but he can’t keep still.’
Larry looked at the boy, a mix of fear and apprehension in his expression. He held out the ball and smiled.
The woman continued. ‘I told him to be respectful. I suppose he’s too young to know what your generation did, the sacrifices you made.’
Larry nodded. He offered a gnarled hand which the woman took after a moment. ‘Thing is, love, that’s why we fought, ain’t it? To let kiddies like your lad muck about rather than worrying about stuff. Go on son. Show us what you can do.’
Roly didn’t need any more encouragement. He flicked the ball high in the air and volleyed it across the grass. His mother looked at Larry, a bemused expression on her face before she followed her son.
Larry turned his chair around and headed to where the crowds still mingled by the green. Jock enjoyed a kick about too, he thought.

About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline. I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy. I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
This entry was posted in #writephoto and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to Armistice Day #writephoto

  1. willowdot21 says:

    Lovely Geoff, not a dry eye in the house. Beautifully written.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A tender one, Geoff

    Liked by 1 person

  3. trifflepudling says:

    Very touching! We sometimes tend to forget just to treat vets normally, don’t we, like the little boy with the ball and his mum. This year, I was waiting for a train and across the aisle of ranked metal seats of people sitting staring at the Departures board was a Chelsea Pensioner about the age my father would’ve been. When I stood up to get my train I went to shake his hand reverentially. “Is this your daughter?”, I said, smiling at the pretty and youngish lady next to him. “Oh no”‘ he said. “This is my lady friend!”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. So poignant and written with such humanity.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Sue Vincent says:

    Beautiful, Geoff…and yes, that was why they fought.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. A tearjerker, Geoff but a wonderful story. ❤ ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Now I’m the one needing a tissue. Pass that box over please, Geoff.
    This was a beautiful read. One for the next book.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Pingback: Photo prompt round up – Secrets #writephoto | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Comments are closed.