Abattoir by Oliver Shrouder (Lucent Dreaming Issue 10)

I didn’t realise the walk was by the abattoir
when I drove us out in March
the last chills of Winter spreading out
like paper ready for colour –
my eldest pointed at it
asking Dad what is that what is that
at the distant corrugated dome
I told them This is where they take the cows
to make them into food

my eldest laughed at me
and my youngest squinted
at the men in white
splintering from one end
in the same coat their mother
comes home in –
they must have thought I was joking,
the air did not smell of food or iron;
no sound escaped the abattoir –
It will be Easter soon and they
will ask for lamb shanks
they will watch Bambi and quietly weep
they will call every deer Bambi
when it gallops fearfully past
and when one of them falls running
they will wince at their green knees
and laugh I’m just like Bambi
pulling jumpers over their red eyes


Buy issue 10 today.
Lucent Dreaming is an independent creative writing magazine publishing beautiful, imaginative and surreal short stories, poetry and artwork from emerging authors and artists worldwide. Subscribe to Lucent Dreaming now, support us on Patreon and follow us on TwitterFacebook and Instagram

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