Oh God, the reek
the stinking rotten bloody stench of it.
If only my eyes could play back to you
the horrors I have witnessed today,
for my tongue lies muted, fallen victim to their flashbang NDA’s.
Out of an apocalyptic sunrise they appeared on the horizon,
shadows inky and spiky,
spectre-like against an ash-pale early morning sky.
Choreographed for shock-and-awe they exited
parade-ground-perfect
their hybrid SUVs: bulletproof, black as their purpose, and green as a wheatgrass shot,
spit-and-polished brogues hitting the pavement with military precision.
Dressed for battle.
Regulation issue handkerchiefs sharply folded, ready to press into service to staunch any blood-
flow threatening to mar the image of their corporate uniforms:ceremonially-pressed suits, flick-knife creases, and chain-linked cuffs ready to shoot.
And armed. They came armed like jobbing torturers with the tools of their grisly trade:
Sharpies
Spreadsheets
and –
deadliest of all –
their military grade, hardened, encrypted, EMP-proof laptops.
They decimated us. We never stood a chance.
Check out more of Pam Martin-Lawrence
A lover of sandstone and chocolate, Pam Martin-Lawrence lives on a small island with collections of emotional support plants, local fossils, and book-boyfriends – plus a long-suffering partner. She is currently querying her debut novel while working on the second. For relaxation she practices Swedish and Norwegian, and she writes poems, flashes, and short stories. During 2023, she had a poem and a short story published and has had two short stories accepted, both for publication April 2024.
Lucky Bug Magazine 