Posted in what pegman saw

Chaos’ Call

There is something about this picture that intrigued me yesterday and two stories formed, slowly, throughout the day. The first story I called OUTSIDE IN, where my narrator was drawn into this building; my second story, INSIDE OUT, followed my narrator arriving inside this building and stepping outside…

Both stories were written on my phone, and although the word count was correct (manually counted and re-counted as my stories grew arms and legs then more arms) when I read them this morning my stories didn’t seem correct. I am my own worst critic, particularly as yesterday was Sunday 17th June, Father’s Day here in the United Kingdom, and I wanted to use that as a theme, or at least a springboard, for a story which I felt I’d failed to do yesterday in them both. Letting go of this, letting go of myself, I regarded the picture anew and something in it spoke to me. Before I got out of bed, the following story flew from my fingertips into my phone.

Now checked and polished, I hope you enjoy CHAOS’ CALL, along with this one hundred and ninety-two word introduction.



Kelvin M. Knight

Crumbling, everything is crumbling, and burning, flames burning everyone, muscles, bones, but not skin. Skin sacks crawling through blood-splattered streets, where cars lie abandoned – empty husks without souls.

These words fall on you like rubble. The trick is to not be buried by them. Many of your family have been buried by rubble, or killed by stones – stones hurled by mobs until death is pleaded for, begged for, sobbed for. You will not beg or plead. You will certainly not sob. If you are cursed, tears mean nothing.

Tears, cursed tears are flowing, flooding – these burning hearts, those incinerated minds, that lost soul. Just one, awash in a river. Just one, becoming an ocean.

Drowning, you press your head into the ground and become one with this earth, this twisted and tortured earth. The wailing inside you is a lament. If only this chaos outside you were heaven sent.

(150 words)

This week What Pegman Saw took us to Taşlıçay, Ağrı, Turkey © Google Maps.

Hope you enjoyed my story. Other contributors’ stories can be found by clicking the la’al blue froggy button below.


First and foremost I am a reader, then a storyteller. My reading tastes are eclectic. My writing can focus around the intimacy of closed settings and may tend towards characters who might be hiding something from themselves.

28 thoughts on “Chaos’ Call

  1. burning, flames burning everyone, muscles, bones, but not skin . . . empty husks without souls. What a vision!
    This whole piece has such an end of the world feeling. Like there’s no hope beyond a quick death to end suffering. Very disturbing ~ in a good way. A very strong 150-word story, Kelvin.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I’ve been home a week or so. Still giving blood to check the inflammation markers there and they are on decrease slowly… Feeling a little stronger physically. Have been given green light by Doctor this morning to be able to cycle. Hallelujah! I am dreading my puff though – lack of it! I am glad you ARE well. All my best, K

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Your imagery is surrealist and makes me think of Dali paintings with the sagging clocks. I had to check your site to if maybe this was formatted as a poem there, because the language is powerful and dense in a way mostly found in poems. It’s gripping, how you address the reader as participating ( and expiring) at the scene. Your allusion to a single soul makes me think something hopeful and transcendent may follow–or survive–this conflagration.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Dear Kelvin
    Your story is a grim read, not merely for its violent imagery, but for the despairing nihilism of the final cry. Maybe it’s a message that we need to hear; maybe we are the ones who have to end the chaos, as we began it.
    Shalom (and seldom have I meant that greeting more sincerely and literally)

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Dear Kelvin,

    I find it interesting that Mothers Day in the UK and the States are two different days, yet Fathers Day is the same day. Curiouser and curiouser. At any rate, hope your day was a good one.
    Your story is vivid illustration of destruction both externally and internally. Well done. (I can’t imagine counting the words on my phone. 😉 )



    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha – counting those words on my phone, and being interrupted, was hellish! Thanks for reading and commenting, Rochelle. My Father’s Day was treacly as I was on an overnight listening shift providing emotional support for folk in despair and distress with only a couple of hours before Sunday began in earnest. My two lads contacted me though, which is always nice.

      Liked by 2 people

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