Keith Evetts
Smokey
Tom’s twinkling eyes belie his paratrooper’s frame. There’s rogue and mischief in him. His wide-eyed civilian students try their best on the pistol range. “Both hands now! When the lights come on, just use your instinct. Point and double-tap: then move!” All in self-defence, naturally. “There’s a lot you can do with a little torch on a dark night, dearie. Flash it in his eyes, then hold it by the bulb end and ram him with the barrel.” They don’t teach you this in college. As Issa put it: we walk this world, above Hell, gazing at flowers.
Not that Tom isn’t smart. His talents are much valued in certain circles. Once, unbeknown to the governor, they clap him into a high security prison as an “ordinary prisoner” to test the security. He looks the part. Tom escapes within a few days (of course)—with the aid of his bed. Having worked out the patrols and the blind spots, one night he takes off two steel brackets, straightens them, and lashes them under his boots so a couple of inches stick out. Another two, still angled, he holds. That’s how he scales the twelve-foot close-mesh fence on the perimeter, blanket over his shoulder to drape across the razor-wire coiled on top. And he’s gone! … to the chagrin of the Home Office. Likely there’s been a bet at some high level in the Athenaeum Club.
Last heard of retired in a seaside town. A local news clip tells how he uses his umbrella to disarm three muggers who corner a woman one dark, wet night. You can guess how disconsolate Tom must be at handing only two of them over to the police. The third gets away. Over seventy, a man loses his edge.
An internet search now comes up no trace, apart from his old regiment and date of death. That’s somehow fitting for a man of shadow. It can only have been old age.
cliff landslip
laughing children play
with tyrannosaur bones
About the Author
A biologist by education, after a career in international diplomacy Keith Evetts writes poetry of all sorts, including haiku and related short forms. He hosts the weekly haiku commentary at The Haiku Foundation and is an editor for the annual Red Moon anthology. He’s married, with five children, a cottage garden, a grey parrot, and a sense of humour.