The Police Officer

Last night, on patrol, I witnessed the most horrific crime I have ever seen. We were called to a pub on Oxford Road called The Oxford; we were told a fight had broken out. My partner, a man I had only known for a few days accepted the call. He said a simple bar fight would be a good training experience; I had only joined the force a few days before.

When we got there people were streaming through the door, as if terrified. Peter, my partner, called for backup, he said people don’t run like that from a simple bar fight. Hurrying into the pub we were immediately hit by a spray of blood. I froze.

On the floor was a dead man, his face had caved in; he must have been hit pretty hard. The assailant was still going. He had smashed a bottle and was stabbing the man in the chest repeatedly. My partner acted first, he tackled the madman to the ground and knocked the bottle out of his hand. I just stood there, I couldn’t move, I just stared at them struggling.

That’s when the backup arrived; they pulled my partner and the criminal apart and within a few minutes the pub was locked down and forensics were on their way. My partner drove me home, he said I needed a rest. I don’t want to go back there, I’m going to quit. There’s too much evil in this world.

The Knife

The pavement passed beneath me,

The cracks avoid my feet,

Two people meet along the path,

And blistering cold, all three.

 .

One pulled The Knife upward, shout!

I stopped so deathly still,

The cracks began to shine The Red,

His shivering stopped, no doubt.

.

The knife, deadly, frightened all,

A Devil’s silver tongue,

Short, and sharp, and glist’ning bright,

A crumbling man, once tall.