A Cut Above The Rest
My great-grandfather was a soldier
and Rebecca was his loving wife.
They were wed in what was then India
and she was accustomed to army life.
They lived in an Indian army bungalow
on the outskirts of the city of Lahore.
Whilst the Major was away on duty
a guard kept their home secure.
One evening as the sun was setting
an open window let in the breeze.
The manservant lit the oil lamps
then retired to the bungalow’s eaves.
As Rebecca sat quietly reading
the sound of a thud came from outside.
From the wall she took her father’s sword
and stood behind the curtain as if to hide.
With the sword raised high and ready
she was in a position to take a swing.
Nervously she stood there waiting
for whatever the night would bring.
From behind the closed curtains
a hand and then an arm poked through
and then with a swipe of the sword
she severed the wrist in two.
A loud scream of pain followed,
as the man left his severed limb behind.
When Rebecca later told the story
she said the burglar left more than he could find.
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