This was an attempt at a short story with the same setting, but looked at from the perspective of three different characters. It's really more of a 'snapshot' or a sketch of character thoughts than a story.
Near where I once lived in Brighton, there was a large and beautiful open area called Preston Park. It was a fine breathing space away from the cluster of the city's streets. Sometimes, in those student moments of staying up all night, I'd wander around there with my friends and wait for the sunrise. There's something very special about the dawn and the way that a new day gradually comes alive. It tends to smell fresh and has a cleansing quality about it too. We'd often see the odd other person loitering around as the night faded, so I tried to imagine the different circumstances that brought these people to this space.
In this brief sketch, we have a kid on his own pyschoactive inner explorations, an old homeless man and a girl involved in a lover's tiff with an awkward partner - all starting their days in the same space yet unaware of each other. The sights, sounds and smells of a new day dawning will be both the same and completely different according to who is experiencing it.
Midsummer
I am sitting on a hillside park bench. Midsummer. Dawn is near. When I look at the streetlights, if I stare at the glowing balls of energy and relax my vision, they diffuse into clusters of shimmering cobwebs, and include all the colours that you’ll never see. I shall wait a couple of hours and then be able to feel the first titillating rays of warmth from a new day. They will arrive, slowly, around my right ear, trickle out across the right side of my face, then increase pace, filling every pore in their path until I’m left, coated in warmth and basking in it’s purity.
I had to sit up to watch the sun rise. Couldn’t do it the disservice of lying down for it’s approach, as I did the stars. The stars could only be drunken in lying down. You can drink till you’re drunk and can take no more, but they constantly replenish themselves, more numerous than ever before. They smother you in their distant effervesence, like tiny spy holes from another radiant world on the other side.
Oh.
I think I’m coming down.
…
I’m sittin' on this bastard-freezing park bench. Midsummer. An it's nearly fackin' daylight again. Still ain't had no fackin' kip. Them bastard kids was up here again last night. Little sods booted me right up the arse when I pretended I was asleep, then fackin' scarpered wi' me larst two cans o' Special Brew. If I was their old man I’d give 'em a right good battering. Teach 'em right from wrong and send 'em to bed when they're fackin' told ter. 'Stead of worryin' an old man wi' no pillow to rest his weary head on at night.
Sheet! 'Nother soddin' day. I’ll get up in a bit, go sit outside the Paki shop for a few. They should be open soon. Might even get to nick a pint out of Abdul's crate before he unlocks the front door. Could do with a drink.
Oh, Christ, me fackin' heartburn's gonna gimme some shit today! Cahhm on, ya little bastard, at least fackin' hold out on me until tonight, till I can find a bleedin' mattress somewhere. Let me bow out wi' a little grace.
Deep breaths, man. Deep breaths.
…
I am sitting on this damp park bench. Midsummer. It’s almost daylight. The dew’s soaked right though my skirt and I’ve got a wet arse now. And I AM NOT going to be the first to apologise. It’s always me.
Can’t believe it! It’s getting lighter now and I can see him. He’s still got his back to me - such a damn child. This is all so stupid. How did we let it get to this? Never understand why. We’re sitting here motionless, looking like some low-flying aircraft has deposited a couple of statues at opposite ends of the park.
It’s always just words. Just about words. I’ve said the wrong thing and offended him. I’ve mouthed off in front of his mates and embarrassed him. Whatever.
Really don’t understand men sometimes. They say they don’t understand women. Does that mean we have to try and understand them as well as ourselves.
2 comments:
Hello, someone from the very distant past here. Just wanted to say that I am enjoying reading your stuff (I am not usually a fan of short stories but I did like some of these). Have you written or are you going to write anything more substantial? (when I say that I mean something like a novel or screenplay - it is not meant as a criticism!). keep it up. cheers
Hello Anon! Well, you've certainly roused my deepest curiosities here! The very distant past, you say? Can I tempt you to give me a slight clue to your identity?
I wasn't intending to 'go live' as it were (ie publicise) with this site until I'd uploaded the whole publishable archive, but it seems that someone's found it already.
Anyway, delighted to hear that you enjoyed the short stories of which you are usually not a fan (another four pending over the next few weeks). There's a novel in the works too, but these things take remarkably long times to write (it's largely being done in grabbed 30 minute lunch breaks inbetween doing other things).
On Chapter 7 at the moment and already pushing something like 80,000 words. Gonna need a little editing down too, methinks...
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