windowless study LIV

Mr Aw found the train at the bottom of his garden this morning when watering his plants. The train was overturned and in pretty bad shape. There was no note attached to the train so Mr Aw didn’t know what the deal was. He slid open the large iron door and found seventeen small children inside. The children, either unwilling or unable to speak, kept schtum. They all looked identical and made Mr Aw more than a little uneasy. They were all carrying weapons of some sort or other, which didn’t help matters in Mr Aw’s mind. One carried a hunting knife, another a snooker cue, a third a sack filled with house-bricks. Mr Aw, fearing for his life, tried to cry out but was forced to accept that his voice box had scarpered. His body also refused to respond in the correct manner and made no movement whatsoever. It didn’t matter anyway as the children dropped their weapons and began chewing on the walls instead. This confused Mr Aw further and he fled like a broken footpath. He returned half an hour later with Mr Garh and Mr Peru. All three carried shotguns and wore expressions of feigned resolution (Mr Garh also wore a hint of narcolepsy on his mush). They found that the children had abandoned the train and were sunbathing on Mr Aw’s perfectly kept grass. The train was long gone. The picture postcard image of the children basking in the dull rays of a hot penny massacred Mr Garh’s mind and he decided to accidentally shoot himself in the foot. Somewhere in the distance a bird was choking on something not specified in this story. A very minor stroke passed through Mr Peru’s body like a lost, orphaned shadow. He opened the left side of his mouth slightly and the shadow slipped out and drifted away on the tired breeze. One of the children, the third from the right, sighed in a contented way and Mr Garh shot his other foot off. Some time passed, during which the children continued to look at the sun and the men continued to look at the children continuously looking at the sun. They all stayed perfectly still and without realising it the men became part of the picture postcard. They all stayed perfectly still for several hours. The choking bird had bitten the dust long before and the sun had given up the ghost, but the children continued to lie perfectly still and the men continued to watch them lying perfectly still. A puddle of blood had formed and dried on the grass beneath Mr Garh’s shattered feet. Mr Peru’s left eye twitched repeatedly like a cursed typewriter and Mr Aw had lost all feeling in his legs. At 18.22 the three men all tumbled out of their synchronized daze and Mr Garh and Mr Peru turned and walked home without uttering a word. Mr Aw opened his mouth to speak but only managed to release some spittle. His mouth stayed open as he turned and went back inside, leaving the inert children on his sepia grass.