Peter Bateman | harlow-writers

PETER BATEMAN

(pen name Peter la Trobe)

... started work as an advertising copywriter.

Throughout his career he regularly worked as a free-lance journalist for regional and local newspaper groups on commercial and retail topics.

Retirement in 2010 finally allowed him to concentrate on creative writing.

Peter joined Harlow Writers Workshop in 2012.

He is studying for a BA in Creative Writing with the University of the Creative Arts.

He created and edits the Workshop website.

A collection of Peter's amusing and off-beat stories is available from

Amazon.co.uk /books /I Killed an Angel.

THE LOCK

We met that one last time in public

unknowing family nearby

We spoke a coded greeting hello – again

I said how nice to meet

looked into the smoke-grey of your eyes

melted in the heat

felt the hammers of my pulse

beat the breath from my body

and stood, shaking.

You smiled; you smiled; you smiled ...

and said something that I heard

but did not understand

for I was hearing words

you spoke before, and seeing you

the way that you looked when

I held all the warmth

all the laughter

all the well-spring of the world.

You said goodbye standing there

the people of your life around you

I hemmed in by all the trust of mine

The silken rope tugging

threatening to tear my heart to pieces

And then the room was hollow you were gone

I could breathe again, just

The memory chained and double locked

but I still have the key - I kept the key. ©

CHASING RAINBOWS

A story in 100 words

Look mummy – a rainbow.

Pretty.

Two rainbows. There’s a faint one above the other. Does that mean there’d be two pots of gold?

Only if you reach the end of both.

Does it have to be gold if you get there?

What do you mean, poppet?

At the end of the rainbow, do you have to have gold, or could you have a wish instead?

I don’t know.

I’d make a wish.

That’s enough.

I’d wish things were like they used to be.

I said that's enough.

I'd wish daddy was there.

SPELLING THE END

Another story in 100 words

The war room is tense.

‘Lieutenant. This is an order from the President. Open the Domesday box’.

‘Sir, yes sir. Box open, sir.’

The General, rigidly at attention, listens to the red phone.

‘Lieutenant. Press the orange button. On my order, enter the code. Stand by.’

‘Sir, yes sir. Standing by, sir.’

‘Lieutenant, enter code word ‘Armageddon.’’

‘Sir yes sir. Shee-it.’

‘Do it NOW, Lieutenant.’