Thursday 17 January 2008

Short Stories

Introduction: I read something recently about how Set Fire to Flames (Godspeed's second incarnation) recorded their first album in the most tense of situations; they shut themselves off from the world with little food and light for about a week until they had a record.

This is essentially how I feel right now. Thus, please excuse any mistakes. Also, I don't hate people this much. Really.



He walks into town without much intention other than to get out of the house. He puts some music on his ipod to set the mood; a winter sunset and he's shutting himself off from the world as he often does every few days, just watching things go by as he walks. The music isn't depressing but it's hardly the most upbeat thing ever either. He doesn't really do depression any more. There have been times in the past when he's been very low, either because of other people or because he can't keep a lid on his, at times explosive mind. He'd think about the worst things he could think about for no real reason; death, people hating him, people hating each other, stuff like that. But since he met her depression was kinda replaced by a more 'hopeful awareness', as he put it.

He walked slowly, emphasising his lack of need to be anywhere in particular, his neck turned to the left as the sun shone on its final crusade of the day, glowing pinks, yellows, blues. As he turned his neck to the right, the sky was a dull blue/grey and darkening by the second, while he walked. Constantly walked.

His mind wondered a bit. The other day he accidentally broke a chair at some girls house. When she said he'll have to pay, he said "life's a bit short for such meaningless material worth don't you think?" he thought he said it, anyway. He walked past the great Roman Catholic cathedral and over the bridge. In this light, looking at all the houses in the distance, he could have mistaken it for a place with some real scale and character, but then he just reminded himself he was at home and thought better of it. His "home town-spirit" had died some time ago, but always found it ironic when he caught himself caring about the local football team; if home is where the heart is, his must be somewhere pretty far north of here.

He listened to the music again, it was a song he'd developed quite a lot of emotional attachment to over the time he'd been going on walks like this; it just always seem to catch the mood just right. He looked around walking down the hill, in the town proper now, and saw mostly people rushing to and fro, just getting out of work, buying all the luxuries they can afford but still take for granted. Some people sat on the floor, helping each other, trying to stay warm and mostly being ignored by the people who walked by. They didn't see him watching. One thing he could say about this town was; they weren't guilty of expecting too much like people in the big cities. These people never got too much and in turn too much couldn't be taken away from them; they just accepted what they had and got on with it. Even if it did mean that sometimes they forgot what was important.

He often rambled in his own head like this but, at least it was keeping from things that just made him upset. Now he looked up at the big clock tower, as he turned and was now walking parallel with it. Quarter to Five. Above it the sky had become violent. It moved at an incredible pace, with a bloodthirsty aura. It was grey moving against the static blue, just like some of the people in the street. In the distance, the sun's pale colours shone but were fading fast. He figured that was like some of the people who weren't walking in the street. No one else though seemed terribly interested in what the sky was doing; only their own respective paths and accomplices.

He continued to walk down the long street, head tilted upwards at the sky, unaware of the jeers people gave him as they walked past, he still had his ears in, until he found himself indoors. He was now walking through a large spacey building, one of those vile places where people could buy more or less the same thing in different colours all under one roof. More annoying was that the building's owners insisted on having all the heating on. He didn't like this, it was too fucking warm. This isn't what winter is about. He was starting to sweat has he descended down the escalator, letting it carry him, as he watched multiple layers of people rushing from hole in the wall to hole in the wall. People and their attitudes had ruined this building. It occurred to him how unnoticed buildings go and how fragile they are, as they depend on others to survive; much like the surroundings and the people sitting out in the street. He reached the ground and walked straight ahead, a bit more urgency than before. He noticed how in the space of a few minutes he had seen various people in and around this building that used to play vague and meaningless parts in his life; school and college mostly, and with disdain, conceded not for the first time, that not much had changed with these people. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed; he had to get out. The doors back outside were still on the far side of the building, and he began to panic. The music in his ears increased in a tense pace as he increased his pace and thought about the clouds that had moved at frenetic pace outside a few minutes ago, dodging and ignoring all the people in his way. Some he knew, some he didn't, but he did feel he recognised all of them. He headed to the now reachable door, past all the various shops and people, and took almost a little skip as he got there. He burst through the large heavy glass doors and out into the street. Sanctuary!

He actually felt like crying that, but thought better of it if he was going to dispel his current reputation in the street as "a bit of
weirdo". Still, he was outside again and there were people but they no longer mattered to him. Unlike before this street had a road running through it, and because of the time of day, buses and cars ripped through it, trying to get to their destinations frantically. That was fine. What was important was that he was outside.

After a moment of standing there in the middle of the street, just in front of the large glass building he'd been in which slotted between a long building with white walls, and a standard brick red building, with the words "Shopping Mall" printed in large thin letters above the many various doors. His natural reaction, for what reason he didn't know, was to turn left, back into town, and he started to walk until he craned his neck in the other direction and saw the gorgeous sun set that was happening. And with that glance, he instantly turned and walked straight towards the light. The sun had won the fleeting battle of the West, for now.

He walked and walked and walked. Walked back towards peace, and the light. There were trees and a few buildings that stood like dark, shadow-like figurines in front of the sun, but they soon ran out until there was almost nothing. Nothing but hills and trees and fields and in the distance, some animals; cows they looked like from here. He walked up a large rolling hill, although any would have done, they were all essentially the same. He sat himself down at the top and looked at the skyline presented in front of him. The music reached it's hopeful climax, and he felt at peace again, looking at all the trees and houses and hills and cows, the whole time the sun fell, fell, fell.

He turned and looked back at the city. The dark clouds he had seen before but no one else had, were gathered over it. It began it's downpour. First, rain, then wind and even some lightning, but then something else. Surely not? He thought he could see fire. Fire raining down on the town. The town he grew up in all his life, more or less by himself, without much guidance from any parental figures, and of which he eventually learned to be sick of, was on fire.

He watched it burn, and knew there wasn't much he could do about it, wasn't really sure if he wanted to do much about it. He was shocked, and slightly scared, but also weirdly pleased (or delirious), like he'd been proven right about something. "I guess this is where the story starts" he said with a wry smile.

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