He turned to face us;

he had a knife;

he was shouting;

we had no choice –

we shot him!


He was dangerous!


Yes, dangerous!

He was waving the knife around – waving it at my colleague!

So, you see, I had to help.

We stick together.

I, we.

We had no choice.

No choice?

No, no choice.

I had to.

He, he, was about to stab her!

I need to see this knife. Bring in the evidence!

Here it is, Sir; 

here is the knife!

butter knife (cc)

No choice?


Copyright owned by Jay Cool, April 2019

Image labelled as creative commons licensed on Bing.


Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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