30 December 2012
1. The paint on the brick wall was crumbling. A steady trickle of flakes accumulating underneath, building into a pile that if it grew any higher would resemble Ayers Rock but this was not sacred ground. The walls were a patchwork of orange paint and red,brown bricks. There were holes in the walls where a cupboard once fixed into place, the miss-match of brickwork was slightly more vivid in colour in the empty spaces in-between.
The room was dark, only lit by the moons rays filtering through the cracks in the rotting wood planks above which served as a floor for the night sky. "I'll take it" said James as he handed over a couple of silver and dirty bronze coins. "The rule of the house is that you leave the room in the morning in the condition it is in now, otherwise it another couple pounds" said the decrepit landlady as she held out her palm making sure she had taken the correct payment, trying not to choke. The room was on the second floor and she could only just manage the stairs. James looked at the old woman, trying to determine if she was being serious. He took another look around to make sure. Copper pipes snaked around the borders of the room only to retreat into holes that could lead to anywhere. The pipes once served a purpose forgotten by the previous inhabitants of the room and to the landlady probably. James had no care for who had stopped here before him. This was the first time in almost a week he had a roof over his own head and because of the cost of the room, planned to make the most of it. The landlady done her best to slam the door as she left the room. She didn't care, this was the last stop before the next town some twenty miles away and judged by the state of her guest that he wouldn't complain and she was right.
James lit the lone candle that was stood in the corner of the room on a table that was made from a few plastic crates and a piece of a metallic type sign. The word stop barely visible. The surface of the make shift table amplified the light coming from the candle flame and just about illuminated the room. The candle was scented, it burnt the back of James' throat. The flame was a dark orange and he assumed that if it was possable to taste colour then this is what orange would taste like.
James set his bag on the table. He rifled through his belongings bypassing a flask and his change of clothes finding at the bottom a postcard, exactly where he had hidden it away to keep it safe. The postcard depicted a view of the sea, turquoise, a touch lighter than the sky all most mirroring it. At the far left of the picture a bungalow was surrounded by sand dunes. He didn't know where this place was, he liked the view, it was peaceful and the wish you were here invitation was more than welcome. He turned over the postcard and read aloud the words written in red. " it's all good, see you in 2 weeks, love you ". The post mark was dated 23/06/2013. About one hundred and sixty years ago.
2. About one hundred and sixty years ago.
"Es ist 7:30 Uhr und das ist Ihr Weckruf" reverberated around the ten by fourteen foot room breaking the quiet of an early morning. Two silhouettes lay on a king size bed. "Paul, it's a weekend" "Yeah" Paul replied. "So what's with the alarm" "I've got to see Simon about the solar PV rig Mary" replied Paul. He expected her to remember this as he had been helping him out for the past three weekends.
Mary was lying on her back still, the inside of her left arm was draped over her eyes, using it as a make shift sleeping mask. "Not that, I was talking about the alarm. It's German, you don't speak German" Mary was annoyed and she made sure her tone reflected this. Paul laughed at Mary's attempt at scolding him. He knew she really loved his randomness, it's was one of the reasons they had stayed together for so long. Paul sat up with his back resting on the head board of his bed. "Lights", he summoned. The corners of the room came to life with an intense burst of white aimed directly at his bed. He raised his hands to his eyes to shield them from the light. "I've got to get this fixed" he reminded himself, "lights off". The fittings in each corner died down individually giving the room back to the darkness. "Open curtains". The curtains opened slowly at his command gradually allowing light from outside access to his room.
Paul looked towards the window, his vision had been impaired by his malfunctioning lighting system, he could see shapes directly in front of him, black and moving about at lightening speeds, but looking past this Paul could make out that it had been raining recently due to the droplets of water leaving streaks showing their descent from the top of the window frame. Mary, no longer a silhouette, still had not moved, she wasn't going to get out of bed just yet "Give me a few minuets Paul" she asked. Paul shifted his legs to the right so was sitting on the side of the bed. He was sure his slippers were somewhere below his feet, he moved his legs and feet backwards and forwards using them as a tool to feel out their location. Confident he found them he slipped both feet into them at the same time and stood up. Paul took his first step and stopped, he looked down at his feet and realised he had put his slippers on the wrong feet. He corrected his mistake and left the room.
Mary had nodded back off into a half-sleep state. She could hear her husband rooting around and making noise in the next room. "Your tools are in the cupboard by the door" she shouted. After a minute or two which felt like hours to Mary, Paul shouted back "I can't find them".
Mary didn't want to get out of bed, she was warm and felt she had an hour or two's worth of sleep to catch up on, real hours this time not minuets. After weighing up the pros and cons of getting herself up she decided that it would be best to get up now, find Paul's tools for him and go back to bed rather than to lie there and let him continue making that same annoying noise. She sat up and almost mirrored her husbands same actions earlier trying to locate her slippers. Paul opened the bedroom door a touch and stuck his noes through the opening. "Don't get up, I've found them, I'll be back about half twelve OK?" Mary took off one of her slippers and threw it at the door, "all-right then", she fell backwards onto her bed and landed on her back, she spread her arms and legs, making a mess of the duvet and pillows, a bed angel. Mary was awake now.
Paul picked up his tool bag and put his hand against the front door. The door opened to his touch and after stepping through he put his hand against the other side to close it. He noticed one of his hand prints made from white paint against the blue door, an accident he had forgotten to clean up, Mary had been asking him for weeks to clean it off. Paul had not in fact forgotten this bit of maintenance unlike his bedroom lights. He liked it. It made his home different to the uniform housing in his street.
Paul and Mary were visited a few days ago by the Home & Welfare Assistance Department and were threatened with a reduction in water allocation for their front lawn if the paint was not removed from the door. Paul didn't care about his lawn, it was grass and as far as he was concerned, not important. It rains almost every other day for most of the year. Grass would manage with out extra water. Come the summer though there would be a risk of a visit to discuss the lawn or lack of it if there were another dry spell. Who knows what ridiculous fine they would get then.
3. Paul arrived at Simons house, it was more of a shed with a second floor but Paul referred to it as his second home. The walls were built with ancient brick and the roof was thatched. Pieces of Simons failed engineering endeavours cluttered randomly on the ground outside of the house. Paul had once seen something like this in an art gallery. Idiots paid money for this kind of stuff in the name of culture and he had it for free at the end of the street where he lived.
Simon had lived there for years and had been one of the founding members of the community after the Great War ended. The fact that he was a veteran was the only reason Home & Welfare allowed this bedraggled shack to stand. Simon rarely talked to his friend Paul about the Great War but when he did, it tended to be a one way conversation. Yes or no answers. Old timers have a habit of talking about the great things they have done, with pride. Simon did not share this trait with his generation. The things he had done in his lifetime were far from great from his prospective. To the nation he belonged to though he was a hero, but people forget as time soldiers on. They just see an unkempt old man now.
Simon greeted Paul as he began to weave a path through the front yard. Paul was athletic in build but this task was difficult even for him. He hopped and skipped over the debris resembling something crossed between a dancer and new born lamb finding its feet for the first time.
"Took your time boy" Simon looked down at his watch, he built it years ago and took pride in telling Paul this when ever he could. Paul was surprised that the old man had not hodge-podged together a circuit or two and built in a stop watch just for the pleasure of telling him he was getting slower every week through this impromptu assault course. Even if he did, it wouldn't be fair, the mess was getting bigger every day.
"Who are you calling a boy Mr" replied an out of breath Paul. "I was fifty year old when you were born, I can call you what ever I like" Paul tried to find a response but couldn't out of some sort of respect for his elder. Simon held his hand on his door to keep it open while Paul ducked under his arm to pass through and made his way to what was supposed to be a kitchen. Simons home didn't have the luxuries Paul's had. No voice activated anything. Even the door was old school, there was a handle to turn to open it, Paul was just about old en
1st Opuss - The End (Part 1 Of 2) • Opuss № I