on the Erskine Writer's Blog.
You know the story of the
competition between the Sun and the Wind to get a man`s coat off?
You may not have heard a
similar tale about the competition between Hitler and the Corvid to see who
could break the human spirit.
Hitler tried first. He sent
in the bombers – Dorniers and Junkers and Messerschmitts – and bombed
civilians, in London, Coventry, Clydebank. The nation rallied against the
blitz. Londoners huddled together in tube stations. The rest of the country
crouched in their Anderson shelters; crouched together for warmth; touched each
other for companionship; told old stories. And they knew they were hitting back
when they heard the bark of nearby ante aircraft guns and remembered the armada
of barrage balloons protecting their cities. Then, when
the all clear sounded, they hugged.
“Now it`s my turn,” whispered
the Corvid. She smiled, a smile that no-one could see and wriggled where no-one
could imagine. It was the beginning of Spring. And the grandsons of those who
had crouched in defiance, coughed and spluttered and cringed in fear. There was no barking gun in reply – no
vaccine, no way to strike back. The only act of defiance was to wash their
hands. And no crouching together. They cringed in self isolation; two metres
was too close. They stayed indoors. And when they died, they died alone.
As the Sun might have said to
the Wind, “Softly, softly.”
Jack Hastie
Jack Hastie
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