"The Trigger" drabbles by Neville Hunt
First on the scene
The Trigger #14
I smelt trouble. I had an inquisitiveness and instinct for it.
At Stutton Point I could wander where I liked. I saw two boys in the distance near the trees and I like boys, they always make a fuss of me. I started to run over to them when it happened. It was a terrible noise and things flew everywhere. I was terrified! The boys disappeared and I ran back towards my owner. On the way, someone threw sticks for me to fetch. Confused, I ran to get one. It wasn't a stick, it was a bone... and much more!
Bombasstic!
The Trigger #13
I usually swim inshore of the deep channel where water flows rather quickly. That day I wasn't close to the shore though. My friends were feeding near the edge of the water when suddenly something seemed to hit my left side and tail, propelling me into the channel. Just as well, because it started raining water and big bits of stuff.
It soon stopped and being a fish with small brain, I went back to see if something good to eat had rained down. My mates had stopped feeding; they seemed to be sunning themselves on the surface. Crass Bass!
In Memoriam
The Trigger #12
The vicar addressed the congregation at the sombre memorial service for the two boys killed by the unexploded bomb.
“This is the celebration of the lives of John and Tim. Both lived their oh-too-short lives to the full. The Coroner might talk about ‘misadventure’ but for these two boys life was full of adventure. Why, I’m sure many of you gathered here to say farewell to the boys will have ‘played hooky’ from school in your time. I know I did!”
Struggling to say the right thing, he had condoned their behaviour, creating a vacancy for a vicar.
Further casualties
The Trigger #11
It was the catalyst. Colin and Janet hadn’t got on too well for years but they’d kept together for the boys. David was now off their hands working as an engineering apprentice in the Midlands and Tim, their younger boy, had been killed in the awful unexploded bomb incident a couple of months ago. First they blamed the other boy, John, and then quickly turned their focus to his parents. It sort of brought them closer together again, briefly. Then each of them found ways to blame one another. Their marriage exploded!
The Nazis blew them apart, 77 years on.
Close encounters of the scary kind
The Trigger #10
Grace picked up Neil's shoe, kissing the lace. She'd been behaving weirdly ever since Neil had narrowly missed being blown to bits by the unexploded bomb that had claimed the lives of his two closest friends with whom he'd been playing. Neil was traumatised by witnessing the tragedy and by the realisation that had he not stopped to tie his shoelace, he would've gone up with the others.
His mum's strange behaviour with his shoe, following her constant hugging and sticking like a limpet, scared him. If only he could talk to his dad about it, whoever he might be.
Aftershock
The Trigger #9
After the news, the anguish, the desolation, the recrimination. It was Dan, the boy's father, who copped the lot.
"Why, why, why did you keep that bloody airgun? You know it's illegal! Something was bound to happen. Johnny's always taken after you and he even looks.... looked... up to you; some hero! You've broken my heart, Dan, broken my heart!" John's weeping mother was clear who'd been responsible.
"I'm hurting too, woman!" was all Dan could muster at the top of his voice. "That bloody school. They're s'posed to take care of our kids"
In the blame game everyone loses.
Teens of disengagement
The Trigger #8
When I heard the explosion - yes, the whole school heard it - I had an instant premonition. That morning my gang of troublemakers, the three most disengaged kids in the class, had not shown up. Explosions didn't happen in this sleepy part of Suffolk.
My instinct was to race off to find out, but I had others in my charge. Only another teacher could understand the guilt I felt when I learnt of the tragedy. It was my duty to engage these boys and I had failed miserably. Two dead, one traumatised.
No-one blamed me. Well, that's not strictly true.
Mud-slinging
The Trigger #7
Some think I'm lazy; I don't do a lot. My speciality is lying around not doing much. I don't really move, I merely drift a bit from time to time. But there's more to me than meets the eye; I'm an excellent host to thousands.
I was lying around one day as usual, when suddenly, I was really moved! By 'moved', I don't mean figuratively, I mean some of me was flung in the air by an incredible force along with loads of my guests. Those guests not airbound instantly wriggled down deep inside the rest of me. Quite orgasmic!
Standing and waiting
The Trigger #6
I mind my own business. It's served me well all my long life. People don't bother me much; it must be respect for old age! They also serve who only stand and wait, said the poet. Standing and waiting was my kind of thing, but I wasn't waiting for what happened that day.
On the shoreline, where I always stand, feathered visitors accompany low water. An avocet sat where he sits. 'Ping!', 'ping!, 'ping!' What's that? Then the ground shook; terrible noise!
Kids sometimes climb up me a bit, but a bit of a kid's now stuck in my branches!
My place to sit
The Trigger #5
A good place to sit. I could dry my feet ready for my next rummage around the mud for worms. It was my place to sit!
Something whizzed past my ear and shook me so much I flew off, sharpish! Up there I could see the problem - two humans making strange, loud cackling sounds. They were dangerous. Something kept spitting from one of them and hit MY seat. They were taking over my feeding ground. I had to fight to survive.
Then, my seat was gone, I was blown up high and the humans even tried to fly like me...
Lucky shoelace
The Trigger #4
"Hey, guys, wait for me, won't you!"
They wouldn't wait though. They knew I had to tie my shoelace, but they wouldn't wait. My two best friends were racing to the point, way ahead of me. John had his dad's airgun to do some target practice but they started without me. I couldn't see what John was shooting at, but they couldn't stop laughing.
"They could've waited for me. Hope they hurt themselves!" Along with ear damage, I've carried the guilt of that day all my life. I'm still here, but like the shrapnel, they were here, there and everywhere!
Going to pieces
The Trigger #3
Resting for years, I'd been abandoned like an orphan, but I'd made a life - a comfortable bed, regular water therapy and head occasionally basking in the sun. What more could a 77 year old wish? But then...
Two young wastrels, who should have been in school, came my way. The one in front was the problem. Dozing peacefully in the sun, I felt a sharp sting on my shoulder. Ow! Then another, another and another.
I was getting angry, very angry. Then it came.... Ping!... That hurt so much I just exploded. I was in pieces. All of us were!
Use it, don't lose it
The Trigger #2
John and me played hooky from school down at Stutton Point. John had nicked his dad’s air rifle. He was kinda crazy, so when we spotted the unexploded Jerry bomb sticking above the water, he thought we’d see if we could set it off. He started firing pellets.
John was a rubbish shot. We started laughing. The more we laughed, the worse shot he was. I told him not to get too close but he was determined to blow it up. Eventually he succeeded, still laughing. You might say he laughed his head off. You might. I can’t. No more.
No more lessons
The Trigger #1
The tide in the Stour estuary in ‘Constable Country’ in the east of England transforms the view twice a day from a wide expanse of water into a beautiful ‘mud sculpture’ formed by nature. In WWII, man inadvertently added a gruesome addition to the sculpture when a bomb from a returning German plane was jettisoned.
Fast forward seventy years. At very low water the nose and two thirds of the bomb were spotted by two young teenager truants. Time for target practice with Dad’s air rifle. Ping!...Ping!...Ping!...Bullseye! Great shot; hit the firing mechanism. A tough lesson, not to be repeated!
