Excerpt for The Truth, My Dear by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

The Truth, My Dear

By Rori O'Keeffe

Copyright © 2018 by Rori O'Keeffe

Published at Smashwords by Rori O'Keeffe

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Table of Contents

Title Page

The Obelisk People


Welcoming the Grave-Digger

The View From the Very Top

Expedience to the End

A Wager

Escape From the Inevitable Demise of All We Have Made

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The Truth, My Dear

The Obelisk People

Sunlight beaming in from above,

Trees dappled in their colours of fall,

Squirrels and voles stir the leaves,

A lone wild dog stares up into the sky,

Far away, high up, a curtain whips in the wind,

And no hand comes to pull it in.

Out at sea, pods pursue the salmon,

Kelp washes about, going in with the tide,

A smell of life that has been here for eons,

Lingers still.

No boats, no ships, dot the ocean,

No ethereal waves encompass the earth,

And far above, battered remnants of satellites,

Cross the twilight skies of this world.

It was home to ones who called it their own,

Who yearned through the ages of civilization,

For a return to something simple,

And they grew old, and senile at last,

Welcoming the Destroyer when he offered to end it,

And so they are gone, forgotten, no longer thought of,

Save for the obelisks that tower from the wilderness,

And capture the eyes of curious wild dogs.


A child of mine, this one,

Splayed out her legs as she played,

Blocks soaring from the floor,

To her eye level,

When a crowd of people came,

And sat about in a hurry,

Here to make a social event.

The child frowned, but could no longer think,

And so she ceased to play at blocks,

And more people came,

Making noise, and eating food,

Using steel knives and forks,

And one spoke of the murder down the road,

Others bared their teeth and mentioned more death,

Someone said that the world is rotting,

And then another looked to my child on the floor,

Sitting on the varnish that covered the fine wood,

And asked her, curiosity on display in the wrinkles of her eyes,

What the girl might like to do when she grows up.

My child pouted, looked all about her, wise in her manner,

Eyes gleaming now with ideas,

I'm going to be President when I grow up,

And many agreed with her, that she could well be,

After all, girls could do anything now,

And yes, some said, they even hurt and lie and steal,

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