I wrote the following piece of Flash Fiction for our Church magazine in response to this months theme of SPORT…
SPORT
by John Yeo
Freedom to do as one likes is a hard-won state of mind. Freedom to enjoy life with the diversification that is Sport.
Support the team, follow the trials of athletics. Sportsmen and Sportswomen displaying incredible feats of sporting prowess.
Many levels of entertainment come under the title of a sport.
To see and experience the horror of a beautiful creature torn to pieces by a pack of snarling angry dogs.
Such is the fate of some beautiful Stags.
‘All in the name of Sport, you know.’
Then there are Pheasants, the male bird has a colourful plumage, that can only be described as magnificent. Sadly they are shot in their millions. ‘All in the name of Sport, you know. No harm done, they are bred to be shot.’
Wild Ducks are killed by the sporting hunters. These are killed for food and the pleasure of the exhilarating thrill of the hunt. ‘All in the name of Sport you know, culling is essential sometimes.’
The Fox can be a nuisance, randomly killing for the sake of it. Leaving dead carcasses all over the place.
Traditionally the Hunters wear a smart red outfit, mount splendid Horses and follow the Hounds, revelling in bloodshed as a Fox is torn to pieces. ‘All in the name of Sport, you know. No harm done, their death is all part of the fun. The hunt is an established tradition.’
Our hard-won freedom of choice can lead to some strange Sporting scenarios.
SHOOT TO KILL
by John Yeo
Grey November, cloudy skies.
Men in rustic clothing
Carrying guns, primed to kill.
Dogs to chase the falling bag,
Many birds will die today
As part of the annual thrill.
All in the name of sport you know.
~
Crows and Gulls gather
Flock to feed on the slaughter.
Dogs retrieve the balls of feathers,
Beaters create noise to scare the prey,
We will feast on fowl today.
As part of the annual kill.
All in the name of sport you know.
~
Take aim, pull the trigger, fire!
Missed! Nothing slaughtered, nothing falls.
Bang! Bang! The shotgun speaks again,
Blood spurts from gaping wounds,
Invisible blood on the killer’s hands.
‘I say! How many did you bag today?’
All in the name of sport you know.
~
We feed our friendly garden birds,
We have six feeders at home.
Robins, Blackbirds, Finches, and Tits,
Beautiful creatures, almost tame.
We only eat game birds in season
They are just part of the annual kill.
All in the name of sport you know.
~
Chicken on Sunday, roast to taste
Eggs for breakfast, boiled or fried?
Turkey for lunch in sandwiches,
During the season we’ll eat a brace
We are bird lovers after all
We take no part in the annual kill.
~
Copyright © Written by John Yeo. All rights reserved.