See what you think.
The carriage
Here I am again. Must be nice to be busy. Less to think about. Engrossed in that which does not truly matter, able to let go of that which does. In stillness, that’s that hardest thing to do.
The carriage crouched at the top of the track; parallel with the setting sun, and dropping sharply below was the path. The sea strove to bridge the gap between sun and land, the tiny town that glimmered in the twilight. But it failed. Some gaps aren’t meant to be bridged. This distance was simply too great even for the mighty sea, thrusting in vain. Soon the sun was gone, the battle was lost, and the sea stood back to admire the city. It’s curving front, warm glow, whispering voice. Oh how she loved to be by the side of this beauty! Yet how much it hurt that they could never be truly together. The darkness rose up out of nowhere and the path became hard to find. The hill remained a mystery as I wandered along the backstreets. They were sprawled with cars but no life. The pub was quiet, but for a group of young Poles who cheered behind me. I realised I had missed another goal. People passed by the window, most of whom I did not even recognize. Wrapped in big coats, some in scarves, passing through the light flooding from the pub, they waltzed home together, accompanied by some silent melody.
The promenade passed beneath my feet and the few nocturnal inhabitants ignored me, apparently engrossed in nothing. An elderly couple sat on a bench, no longer watching the sunset. A boy cycled past again, this time in the opposite direction. I turned and walked back, finding the quiet roads again. Only the street lights accompanied me home.
The pessimist sees
Pin-board full of memories
Photos take me home.
Here I am again. Back where I started. Faded green and neutral cream clash in the corners.
As the curtains prepared to meet again, something stood out. In fact, it was the vast expanse of nothing that caught my eye.
Music fills the void
Softly epic, energetic
Big-Bang’s ceaseless scene
My stone heart turned. There could be nothing bigger than that which expanded, even as I stood in awe. And yet where did it come from? Into what was it expanding? My mind flooded with questions. I envied the thoughtless fly that sat on the window pane, lost behind the open face. At least this prison had an escape, physical borders.
Morning crept through the curtains and I rose, red-eyed. As the blanket peeled back the icy air sank into my skin. The day was wasted with insignificance. Everything I did was clouded with anticipation.
Our blue eyes met at the station as the town clock rang its third and final toll. We went for a drink, and the smell of coffee mingled with the smell of her hair. I had so much to show her here, but for the time-being I was happy to simply sit with her as my cappuccino went cold.
We found a bench that night on the side of the hill. The sun had sunk screaming into the sea, and by the time we sat down the last of the bronze clouds had faded to black. ‘Fin’. The stars had taken control of the sky, including one strangely bright one. “From now on” she whispered, “that’s our star.” She kissed me. I did not tell her it was a planet. A bright light sliced the darkness, and the flash made us both jump. We held each other closer as a second firework exploded over the bay, the red streaks reflected in her eyes. Spectacular. We sat, watching the firework display in silence. For half an hour the sky was a canvas of blue, red, green, yellow. Within seconds, the canvas was blank again, splattered only with the stars, faint and insignificant by comparison. The vast expanse of nothing became just that. Nothing. Detached from the real world. Simply art. Lives had been wasted on it, but all I would ever need was in my arms. Spectacular.
Morning crept through the curtains and I lay still, eyes shut. The blanket was a thick fortress protecting us from the cold, from time, from everything. My arms round her waist, hers round mine, in our impenetrable castle. Bliss v. A state of perfect happiness, oblivious to everything else. Perfect happiness. We could have stayed like that all day.
We left the small town behind and ventured further up the hill. I held her hand as we walked. The wind blew her silken brown hair across her face. Sheep scattered from an un-seen predator. Supposedly, animals can sense things that humans cannot. I thought I felt her letting go, and I squeezed my hand tighter, only to realise that she had already gone. The wind held the sound of her laughter away from my ears as she ran ahead. I zipped up my jacket, pinching my finger. A cloud passed across the afternoon sun. I studied my injury, and when I looked up again she was back by my side. She took my finger and kissed it better. I laughed, and told her it wouldn’t actually help, that it was all psychological. But it did help. We turned and walked back, finding a different route to the destination I wanted to show her.
Her voice did not so much penetrate the silence as form a bubble inside it. “It’s beautiful.” The bubble danced and flew out of reach. I did not offer a response. “What do you do up here?” The sun reflected off the sea and caught my eye. A few silhouetted clouds marched upright towards the setting sun, as they had been doing for the last hour we had been sitting there. “I think.” My dry throat stuttered the words. They sounded crude and harsh next to her soft diction. “About what?” Still I looked at the sea, this time my response came immediately. I did not even have to pause. “About God. About the world. About home.” Here was a brief hesitation. “About you.”
* * *
They sat in silence, watching the sun set, the town still glimmered. His face shone orange, reflecting the light as it glanced from the rippling sea. He turned to look at her, casting one side of his face in shadow. The carriage was empty. Slowly he stood and walked away, finding a small pathway down the hill.
He turned the light off and lay in the dark, a strange smile on his face that could never be deciphered.
* * *
Here I am again. Tonight, the sun did not set. It simply sank behind clouds. Nothing spectacular. The moon hides behind the same mask as the stars, like the sun did earlier. The cold is beginning to sink in, striking my softened heart. I sit where you never sat. I see what you never saw. And I know that you never will.
It must be nice to be busy. Less to think about. Engrossed in that which does not truly matter, able to let go of that which does. In loneliness, that’s the hardest thing to do.
