Drabbles

Walking forward, the low, winter sun blinds us, like the unseen future.

“Too sunny,” says a little voice.

So, we look down where we stand. This is the present. But it’s hard to stay still.

Looking back, is much easier. Our shadows stretch, tall and slim, along the pavement; mighty effigies in memory. That’s the past, defined, but dark and distorted.

“There’s bear’s shadow,” says the little boy, about to walk into a lamppost.

“Look where you’re going,” says mum, concentrating on the moment, even though she can’t see beyond her own feet. “Bear’s shadow will follow us, don’t worry.”

Busy working, busy organising, busy thinking. His brain buzzes like an office full of live electrical items. Then something floats through the buzz.

His body is already tapping a foot and mouthing the words. The familiar melody immobilizes his busy thoughts, just for a moment, like pausing TV at full volume. 

In the silence, memories connect to the song. The correlation is so strong, he wonders if she’s thinking of him too.

No way. She’ll be too busy working, too busy organising, too busy thinking. Too busy to feel anything.

The song ends. The connections lost. His world buzzes again.

He chooses to sit next to the damn door. He chooses, in the hope that she’ll walk through it, even though he knows she won’t.

It’s a big, heavy, wooden door and it needs oiling.

Every time it opens, it squeaks and his heart lurches, like a horse stumbling at the first hurdle. But it’s never her and he has to reign in his galloping heart.

After a few minutes, the tightness eases until the next squeak. Again it’s not her.

Squeak. Still not her.

Squeak. Not her.

Finishing his drink, his times up and…squeak.

He walks out the damn door.

The sticky floor sways, rolling you toward the bar.

You order, “A water,” because you promised your mum, “A shot of Sambuca,” because your friends dare you, “And a beer,” because it’ll relax the buzz in your nerves.

Downing the first two, you turn to the dance floor. Your friends slap you on the back, hook your arms and drag you into the indivisible mass of bodies.

The flashing lights and pounding music drown out any individual thoughts and you become part of the moment. Jumping and yelling, half remembered lyrics, you spend the rest of the night dancing drunk.

Ignoring the world, I walk, head down, straight through a puddle. 

Cold, rain water soaks my trainers, because I couldn’t find my boots. I also forgot my best friend’s present, ruined a cake, missed the first train and probably left something on that’ll burn down the house.

Today, I’m out of sync with the universe.

When the next train arrives late, the window offers me a reflection that looks like a wet poodle.

The doors hiss open, people gather around but rather than bumping me, someone steps aside.

I look up.

A strangers smiling face nudges me back in sync.

A traveller stands still in a rushing crowd, like a stone in a river, forcing people to go around them.

Looking up at the departures board, the traveller considers where to go. North to the wild mountains, South to the rolling downs, East to the continent, or West to the open sea.

But every time the traveller envisages getting on the train, feeling the surge of adrenaline as it moves off to an unknown land, the traveller is overwhelmed by the thought of home.

But no train can take the traveller home.

The traveller must wait for home to arrive.

Hearing the rush of water, I walk to the stony edge. The black river plunges down the valley, racing toward the sea. Toward you.

Why can’t I go where the waters rush, under the dark sky? Why can’t I let fate carry me, like the current carries that leaf? I’d float round the bends, searching for your smile.

The waters race on nearly as desperate to reach you as I am.

Maybe you’re listening to the river too. Maybe you’ll catch these thoughts as they sail by. Maybe I’ll commandeer a boat and escape downstream.

But are you even there?

The moment when a phone call ends, you don’t want to finish, but life cuts in.

He says, “Bye.”  

You say, “Bye.”

Then there’s this pause.

The moment when the train arrives, the doors hiss open. She gets up to leave and you hug her goodbye a little longer than normal.

She says, “Bye.” 

You say “Bye.”

Then there’s this pause.

You meet a friend on the bus, but too soon it’s their stop.

They say “Bye.” 

You say, “Bye.”

Then there’s this pause. A silent infinity, filled with everything unsaid, when time has run out and words aren’t enough.

Getting away from the grey pavements and the close streets, I stomp through wide-open fields and empty hedgerows, under a vast, blue sky.

I feel lonely, but free.

The cold morning creates a magical world. My breath hangs in the air, like dragon’s breath. The pale grass is still frosted from last night. In the sun it glistens like sparkling pixies skating on ice. 

But of course, it’s all an illusion. The frost will melt, the pixie lights extinguish, the clouds return, and the freedom of the wide-open space will be limited by the next place I have to be.

The Good Fairy sends three and a half brothers on a quest for a party.

She drops them at a magical door that opens to reveal a tunnel. Daring to traverse it, the brothers find a cavernous room; at the centre is a chest.

Little Scamp and Half-Giant, sort through the treasures, whilst the Eldest and Middle, venture further on.  

In the heat of the dragon’s lair, they rescue a friendly witch, liberate food and a cake and return to the cavern.

Little Scamp and Half-Giant have hung the treasures just in time for the party to begin.

Quest accomplished.