Talent is formed in quiet retreat
Character in the headlong rush of life
That day was always going to be different. From the moment I woke up, I had this peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, and for a few seconds I wondered what it was. But then I realised. I was excited.
I had no idea why- I was patrolling that day. And though patrolling was always interesting-the things you can find out about people when you’re a policeman! It was pretty much guaranteed that after an hour or two you were going to get very bored, and that day was probably going to be no different.
I got up, half-made the bed, and then walked down to the kitchen. I wasn’t going anywhere until I’d had a good breakfast. I thought I’d start with bacon, eggs, and maybe some orange juice. But after I’d reached the kitchen and searched the cupboards and fridge and found nothing but some porridge and half a tin of baked beans, my hopes for a good day were starting to fade away.
A few hours later, nothing much had changed. My stomach was growling, and my legs ached from walking around all morning. The neighbourhood I was patrolling wasn’t particularly interesting either. A whole lot of fancy cars and stores; their upmarket owners lounging around in their air-conditioned cafés. It didn’t seem as if there were going to be a lot of robberies, pub brawls, or gang warfare around there.
I turned off the main street into a shadowy back lane to get away from the sun. Rubbish bins lined the dusty road, crates of yesterday’s uneaten food. A stray cat streaked across the path, followed by a small boy who looked homeless. It made me sad, seeing things like that, and made me think of how lucky I was.
Somewhere along the street, I heard the sound of a door creaking. Someone was coming out the back of one of the shops or restaurants that lined the main road. I could hear something else as well. The person was singing.
As I walked closer to the voice, I started to hear snatches of the song.
“You don’t know the whole story,
Don’t be too quick to judge,
The person that’s inside me,
The girl that you once loved.”
A crow in a tree overhead called, its low throaty voice filling the air and blocking out the song that had entranced me, leading me towards the woman that was singing. Then I heard her again.
“You know that I am sorry,
For what I did to you.
But all the pain you’re feeling,
I’m feeling it too.”
I went round a small bend in the road, my eyes searching, my ears alert for any noise. I was about to give up, thinking that she had probably gone back inside, when I saw her.
She was quite small, her curly golden brown hair falling across her face and catching the sunlight. She wasn’t dressed expensively, just some jeans and a black tee-shirt. I was glad. I didn’t like people like that anyway. I walked towards her, suddenly very aware of how messy my hair was, how thin my face was, how my contacts were making it harder to blink.
“You’re a good singer. Who wrote that one?” I said when I was about ten metres from where she was sitting.
She looked up, surprised. When she saw me, her eyes widened, and I could feel my own doing the same. The blush that had crept to her cheeks at my comment quickly went away. She seemed so familiar. Her eyes, so inquisitive, yet so full of knowledge. So determined and brave, and yet…..she seemed so afraid.
“I didn’t realise you were there,” she said, once she got over the initial shock of seeing me. “It’s just something I made up.”
“It’s good,” I said. “You should record it or something.”
She smiled then. “As if.”
“Do you work here?” I asked. I’d have liked to see her again.
“Only for this week. I’m helping out my friend. Normally I work at my bookshop, and I baby-sit for a family in the evenings,” she said, then seemed to be angry at herself for revealing so much.
“Sounds like more fun than what I do every day,” I said, smiling. I hadn’t smiled for a long time.
She gave me a small half smile, and then shied away. She obviously wasn’t going to tell me anything else.
“I’ll see you around,” I said, turning to go. Behind me, I heard her mumble a farewell.
I kept walking down the street, with more determination in my step then there had been minutes before. As I turned the corner, I could hear her sweet voice singing.
“Because I’m half the girl
I thought myself to be.
But just know I always loved you,
And I’ll hope you still love me.”
Snow swirling. Wind whistling. Lights make every house seem like a fairy castle. Christmas again; that damned time every year that makes me feel like strangling carollers, and punching every pair of lovers making out behind a tree. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to bring myself to enjoy Christmas- not after what happened three years ago.
I walk along the street towards the supermarket, trying my hardest to ignore the Christmas sale signs, the lights, the music blasting from every store. All of it is such a horrible reminder, bringing back such painful memories that I can practically feel the knife that’s plunging into my heart.
That store- I bought her Christmas present in that store. I spent so long deciding, and I had it ready weeks before, and after I’d bought it, I spent the rest of the time wondering if she’d like it. Those lights- the way her hair had looked in the colourful lights, how her eyes had shone with guilt when she wrenched herself out of his arms. And the music, I’d hardly heard it then, but it had been there, and now the sound of it was tearing me apart.
It’s time to move on. But at the moment, there are too many reminders that keep plunging me into the past.
I know it's the shortest chapter ever, and i'm sorry. very very very sorry. but you have to let me know whether i should keep writing or not. You all make the fic-writing thing worthwhile!
see you all next chapter (maybe)(hopefully),
chlo xoxo