The stillness lay as thick as the mist that hung in the pre-dawn air, coating everything with a thin film of moisture. A fox travelled across the empty ground and across his pelt could be seen a halo against the glow of streetlamps that lit the sky and caught its light in the droplets of water on his back. The fox stopped and shook himself, lifting his nose to the damp air hoping to catch a scent, his ears flicking back and forth to locate a sound. But the silence remained and the air did not move.
After the fox had moved on a sound did stir the air. It was a groan that came from the old railwayman’s hut beside the tracks, just before the bridge over the canal. Through the clapboard planks came the sound of pain and suffering.
For the umpteenth time she promised her brain that she would stop inflicting this hurt upon the cells within. Her brain gave no answer except to release more pain behind the eyes and cause another grunt. Eventually she drifted back to sleep and the silence returned.
The sun made a brief appearance as dawn broke through the low cloud but it was unable to penetrate the mist and was only seen briefly as a washed-out watercolour picture might show, before the clouds closed in again.
She awoke with her belly complaining and the headache still there. With a lot of mumbling and stumbling she had voided her bowels and even climbed down to the canal to clear the debris around the bottom step so she could wash her face in the cold water. The pain at the back of the eye sockets dropped a few notches and she was able to summon up the energy to think a little. In the hut, she had pulled a backpack from its hiding place (under the floorboards) and found an apple and a still-wrapped meat pie. Mindful that her mouth felt like the floor of a budgies cage, she decided to leave the pie until later. She took the apple outside and climbed up onto the roof to eat her breakfast.
The triangle of empty land lay still. To the left the railway, angled to the right the canal which disappeared beneath the railway bridge. To mark the top of the triangle the blank wall of a derelict printing factory joined the two. Steel, water and brick. Almost a prison. She had been here for months and had seen no-one. Which was odd, areas that had accommodation are hard to come by and the hut she sat upon was in a desirable area. Views over water – good transportation links and a blank canvas. A prime location; so why did nobody come here?
She changed into the cleanest ‘dirty clothes’ she could find in the capacious holdall. A rummage around also produced a linen tie-up bag into which she stuffed her laundry. She hid her rucksack and shut the door, carefully placing objects to show if anyone had entered.
She found enough change in her jeans pocket to pay for a Service-Wash and decided to kill the hours waiting for the washing with a good read so she set off for the library. Her mood was light as she stepped into the grand entrance of the public building and as she headed upstairs for the reading-room she came upon a photo exhibition.
Pictures lined the wall of the staircase – a portrait of a town through the eye of a camera. The photographer in question was a student at the local college she read from the introduction pamphlet at the foot of the stairs..
One by one she climbed the stairs, taking in the vast array of black & white pictures. They showed a good selection of views from oblique angles upon a town that had lost its way. Alongside the essential views of the high street and the civic buildings lay interesting and candid portraits of the population along with strangely lit pictures of decay and urban desolation.
It was a good balanced collection and then, there, suddenly was a picture of her current home – a beautifully structured picture; taken from the brick wall end and showing the railway and the canal meeting; forming, on the print, a perfect triangle. The tiny, leaning shed that stood alone at the apex said it all – derelict - Nothingness.
As beautifully crafted as the picture was, it held an air of despair that grated the nerves and with an effort she averted her eyes and then - fate being fate, halted their progress by bringing them to rest upon another image that sent a shock throughout her body and made the bile rise in her throat…
He had a flat. Clean(ish) sheets! How could she not like it? It had been a good party. They had met at Geralds party, who had done everyone proud by throwing money at the booze; they had exchanged pleasantries and talked and at home-time he had offered a lift – or maybe, a coffee? A nightcap perhaps?
The coffee was gross. But he did have a nice flat and she had agreed to it. He had eyes with a slight squint, not unnerving but a tad off-putting. She had been with worse.
His grunts of passion had dissolved as he fell asleep on top of her. She caught an odour of his breath and heaved him off.
Climbing out of bed she padded her way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. An hour passed.
She left a note thanking him. - Never let it be said that she wasn’t grateful. A good nights sleep in the arms of another did do something for the soul. Not nearly enough, but it went partway.
It was later that afternoon when their paths crossed.
She wandered the shelves of Safeway looking for instant gratification -though without the need for a microwave oven. Fresh fruit along with bread and cheese had so far made up the selection.
The arm that led her away from the cooked-meats clung firmly. The voice held a further warning that resistance was futile…
A debt was owed it seemed. She had not fulfilled her part of the ‘bargain’. She had walked out on him. She had hurt his pride. She placed the basket on the floor and followed him.
The immediate assumption that punishment was due became apparent when he closed the door to the flat. She took it. What followed was worse. She took that too. The dismissal was final.
During early evening when the day hovers between light and dark she had returned to her hut. The feelings she held within now came out and she vomited without reservation. She tried to let all the hurt and hate exit her body and stain the ground but she had been left heaving and hurting …..
The picture showed that moment. The photographer had been there and focused in on her as she let the day vent from her body. He had intruded upon her solitary moment and put that moment up for all to see. The shock of seeing the picture was to much. She held her hand to her face and cried out…
After the fox had moved on a sound did stir the air. It was a groan that came from the old railwayman’s hut beside the tracks, just before the bridge over the canal. Through the clapboard planks came the sound of pain and suffering.
For the umpteenth time she promised her brain that she would stop inflicting this hurt upon the cells within. Her brain gave no answer except to release more pain behind the eyes and cause another grunt. Eventually she drifted back to sleep and the silence returned.
The sun made a brief appearance as dawn broke through the low cloud but it was unable to penetrate the mist and was only seen briefly as a washed-out watercolour picture might show, before the clouds closed in again.
She awoke with her belly complaining and the headache still there. With a lot of mumbling and stumbling she had voided her bowels and even climbed down to the canal to clear the debris around the bottom step so she could wash her face in the cold water. The pain at the back of the eye sockets dropped a few notches and she was able to summon up the energy to think a little. In the hut, she had pulled a backpack from its hiding place (under the floorboards) and found an apple and a still-wrapped meat pie. Mindful that her mouth felt like the floor of a budgies cage, she decided to leave the pie until later. She took the apple outside and climbed up onto the roof to eat her breakfast.
The triangle of empty land lay still. To the left the railway, angled to the right the canal which disappeared beneath the railway bridge. To mark the top of the triangle the blank wall of a derelict printing factory joined the two. Steel, water and brick. Almost a prison. She had been here for months and had seen no-one. Which was odd, areas that had accommodation are hard to come by and the hut she sat upon was in a desirable area. Views over water – good transportation links and a blank canvas. A prime location; so why did nobody come here?
She changed into the cleanest ‘dirty clothes’ she could find in the capacious holdall. A rummage around also produced a linen tie-up bag into which she stuffed her laundry. She hid her rucksack and shut the door, carefully placing objects to show if anyone had entered.
She found enough change in her jeans pocket to pay for a Service-Wash and decided to kill the hours waiting for the washing with a good read so she set off for the library. Her mood was light as she stepped into the grand entrance of the public building and as she headed upstairs for the reading-room she came upon a photo exhibition.
Pictures lined the wall of the staircase – a portrait of a town through the eye of a camera. The photographer in question was a student at the local college she read from the introduction pamphlet at the foot of the stairs..
One by one she climbed the stairs, taking in the vast array of black & white pictures. They showed a good selection of views from oblique angles upon a town that had lost its way. Alongside the essential views of the high street and the civic buildings lay interesting and candid portraits of the population along with strangely lit pictures of decay and urban desolation.
It was a good balanced collection and then, there, suddenly was a picture of her current home – a beautifully structured picture; taken from the brick wall end and showing the railway and the canal meeting; forming, on the print, a perfect triangle. The tiny, leaning shed that stood alone at the apex said it all – derelict - Nothingness.
As beautifully crafted as the picture was, it held an air of despair that grated the nerves and with an effort she averted her eyes and then - fate being fate, halted their progress by bringing them to rest upon another image that sent a shock throughout her body and made the bile rise in her throat…
He had a flat. Clean(ish) sheets! How could she not like it? It had been a good party. They had met at Geralds party, who had done everyone proud by throwing money at the booze; they had exchanged pleasantries and talked and at home-time he had offered a lift – or maybe, a coffee? A nightcap perhaps?
The coffee was gross. But he did have a nice flat and she had agreed to it. He had eyes with a slight squint, not unnerving but a tad off-putting. She had been with worse.
His grunts of passion had dissolved as he fell asleep on top of her. She caught an odour of his breath and heaved him off.
Climbing out of bed she padded her way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. An hour passed.
She left a note thanking him. - Never let it be said that she wasn’t grateful. A good nights sleep in the arms of another did do something for the soul. Not nearly enough, but it went partway.
It was later that afternoon when their paths crossed.
She wandered the shelves of Safeway looking for instant gratification -though without the need for a microwave oven. Fresh fruit along with bread and cheese had so far made up the selection.
The arm that led her away from the cooked-meats clung firmly. The voice held a further warning that resistance was futile…
A debt was owed it seemed. She had not fulfilled her part of the ‘bargain’. She had walked out on him. She had hurt his pride. She placed the basket on the floor and followed him.
The immediate assumption that punishment was due became apparent when he closed the door to the flat. She took it. What followed was worse. She took that too. The dismissal was final.
During early evening when the day hovers between light and dark she had returned to her hut. The feelings she held within now came out and she vomited without reservation. She tried to let all the hurt and hate exit her body and stain the ground but she had been left heaving and hurting …..
The picture showed that moment. The photographer had been there and focused in on her as she let the day vent from her body. He had intruded upon her solitary moment and put that moment up for all to see. The shock of seeing the picture was to much. She held her hand to her face and cried out…
to be continued...
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