The Firework Catchers

 

If the sun had known what the night would bring, it would not have set peacefully that day. It would not have sunk with such a nonchalant, relaxed feeling, spreading those diminishing golden rays over our sun kissed county.

Perhaps it did not know, as I did not know either, what would occur that night. Perhaps also, like us, it had little concern for the threat of war. At that time the optimism concerning the fighting against Germany was ripe, the war was still young and many young men had not enlisted, although many more had. As for me, I was still too young anyway. Instead we spent the last golden dregs of the summer working the Kent fields, resting in the full assurance that our brave men would come back victorious and that the enemy was weak. We whistled and sung a little as we worked in the breezy mornings and if the day became hot we would pull our caps down further and smile, as if the very force of the sun was like a mother we loved so much but was embarrassed to be seen with.

It was the days before the great war baptised us in fire and pain and the chilling realisation of the extent of power that can be wrung when a man puts his mind to it. Perhaps I had imagined it all then. Perhaps I am so blinded by the picture frame beauty of this harvest scene that all the events of that night were just a dream, for that is what they seem like.

We had heard the low drones of aircraft pretty much constantly as we worked in the sun that day. It was still an occasion to see and to hear them practising and testing over the fields. We would stop, look up and try to guess what type of plane it was, and perhaps where it was heading. These were ideal speculations and in our naivety we laughed out loud at the enemy; laughs that would later turn to fear.

It was in this attitude that the sun began to set, and I began to head home to Harbledown and preferably the nearest pub I could find. I remember clearly that as the sun went out of view there was a sudden plunge in the temperature, an odd, disturbing chill filled the place and sent shivers down my back. I pulled over the jacket that was previously slung across my shoulder and look cautiously around, as if the sudden coldness was in some way or other connected to something more sinister and evil.

Then it started. The dreadful wailing sounds of an air raid siren, crying out a song to urge people to run away, to be frightened and to hide. Before I knew it the night was transformed by a deeper darkness, only separated by the beams of searchlights. I panicked. Never before had I been caught out in the open in an air raid, not close enough to get to the city centre public shelter and by no means close enough to get home. I panicked. I started running like a man with nothing left to lose, half trying to get home and half trying just to run away from the whir of aircraft engines that were penetrating the skies above. And then a thud.

The night exploded into a thousand fires and flying shrapnel. The bombs seemed endless and fell thick and fast but seemingly blind into the night. I fell to the ground in vain protection as a blast smashed into the end of the street that I was on. I could almost feel the wind of the bombers flying over head. They kept on flying, steady and uncompromising, an apparently endless army of metal warriors come to reek destruction on the world.

In a flash I got up and ducked down a dark path, the thumps of bombs still ringing and the fire still burning. I kept on running as the sound of the planes got fainter and fainter, mixed with the sirens of ambulances and fire trucks. When I finally stopped I realised that all these sounds were now merely reverberating in my head, and that actually I was alone, lost and shaking in the depths of night.

"My Dionysus, my Bacchus... where are you my love...?"

I heard a voice weeping in the night, mixed in with sobs that were coming from a figure hidden amongst the dark. It was a female voice, sounding like silver or some other precious metal; not a warm and rich voice but one that seemed to cut right into me and speak to something inside there. It seemed to call me, and as it did the fears that had brought me to this strange place vanished.

She was sitting on the earthy ground, on the edge of a rough stone path that lead to stone bridge. From where I was I could only see a huddled figure, a shadow silhouetted in the stars and moonlight. As I drew closer I noticed she was young, and also incredibly beautiful. She had long, silky black hair that tumbled down from her head over her arms and onto her lap. My heart panged and felt for her; something so beautiful but so full of sadness. She continued to cry into her hands and moan as I approached her.

"Miss?" I asked tentatively, "Are you... alright, miss?"

As she looked up at me I felt my heart melt. Her eyes were a piercing dark blue and filled with such pity and dismay. Her face was gaunt, white and pale but had an eery attractiveness to it, framed as it was by her flowing hair. She seemed to have wrapped herself in a man's black jacket, as if some other man had been here and left it with her.

"My Jim..." she said, shaking slowly, "My Jim... what was he worth to them? What are we worth to anyone? Humans... useless and pathetic... weak..."

I didn't know how to react to what she was saying, or how to handle the situation, so I just stood there looking at her with a blank expression.

"My Love," she said suddenly looking at me, "It's all worthless isn't it? What do you see in anything? You work, but it's never going to amount to much. You love your friends, you love your family... but what have they ever really done for you? Hurt you. Broken your heart. Told you to be quiet, to sit still, to go away you silly..."

She broke once more into tears and I shifted uneasily on the ground and looked down at my feet. Her words made sense for some reason, I began thinking about who I was and what I had achieved and realised that she was bringing forward a thought that must of been there for a while; I am useless. I am pathetic. If a lady this beautiful felt this way, how much more so should I?

"Come away with me," she said looking at me with a sudden eager expression, "Let's run away. Nobody understands what we are. The world doesn't care about us. You and me. I'll take you back with me and love you. You deserve it. You deserve everything, my love..."

I stepped forward and bent down on my knees to her level. Her piercing blue eyes followed me all the way down and she uncurled herself from her weeping bundle to face me. I couldn't help noticing as she did her jacket pulled apart to show that underneath she was wearing a white petticoat that exposed the top of her torso and a small part of her breasts. I looked away quickly and flushed a deep red; embarrassed and shocked by this exposure. What had happened to this girl to make her act like this?

When I looked back she had pulled her jacket back over her but had a sly smile on her lips.

"Come away with me," she said, "Come away with me now."

She attempted to stand up on her feet and I almost offered a hand to help her, but realised that this would mean the removal of her right hand from keeping the jacket closed over her, and so instead rose up awkwardly myself.

The night chill suddenly made everything clear. I faced this beautiful girl and decided that I wanted to go away with her. It was such a simple and easy choice to make. Never before had I had this sense of determination. We faced each other for a second and then she turned slowly, and started to walk over the bridge. I followed willingly behind as she crossed over.

Whilst I was half way over the bridge there was a bang. A flash of light flared above. Panic rose again as flashing sparks sprayed over head.

"Macster!"

The deep voice of a country farmer fled into the air. A black cat ran up to my feet and pawed at my trousers. There was another flash and bang in the air above and it suddenly seemed as though a bubble broke. I remembered with fear all that had happened earlier on that night, before I had met this girl. The terrible bombing and raging fires swept through my mind, as did a sense of who I really was, and the real world that I lived in. I looked to the end of the bridge where the mysterious lady had stopped and was looking at me with her peerless face, piercing eyes and flowing black hair. There was another bang and I realised that they were not bombs, but fireworks.

"Macster!" 

Out of the shadows came the most bizarre sight I had ever seen, and would ever see in my whole lifetime, the man who I thought to be a country farmer was actually a fisherman. Or that is what I assumed the large, burly man in front of me was. He wore a checkered shirt and odd navy dungarees but the weirdest thing of all was what looked like an enlarged fly fishing net.

"Whatya gawping at, son?"

There was another bang and what looked like a catherine wheel flung up into the air.

"AFTER IT MACSTER!" roared the fisherman, "Don't let it get away!"

The cat proceeded to chase the catherine wheel into a bush whereupon the strange looking fisherman held high his net and swooped it down on the place where the firework had been extinguished.

"GOT IT!" he exclaimed and gave a wild smile.

There was another bang and whistle that sounded like it was coming from further away.

"They're headin' east! Betta keep up, lad!" he said, looking at me.
"I'm sorry?"
"Are y'coming?"
"No... what? Sorry, I'm..."
"You're not going with her are yeh?"

He looked across the bridge at the woman who had been standing there passively for some time, just waiting for me to finish crossing the bridge. I looked at her and felt something swell up inside me. She seemed to have some sort of hold over me. Everything about her was a magnet that drew me closer and closer. She envoked a strong desire in me that filled me for a moment with happiness and the hope of something more than my present life. But when I looked away the feeling died and left a bitter aftertaste. There was something fake and deceitful about her, I knew it when I heard the fireworks and the bubble had broken.

"You'd rather chase her than fireworks, eh?" said the man, slinging the net over his shoulder, "I tell you this. You can run after her, but I've met people like her before, they're no good in the end."
"But look at you," I managed to stumble out, feeling a little insulted about my lack of judgement, "What are you doing? What even are you? Chasing fireworks? You're mad, sir, I'm sorry but you are."
"Don't be daft," he said seriously, "I never caught a firework, lad, I've caught nought since I started, but it's the thrill boy, it's the thrill of chasing after the light, boy... it's thrill of chasing after the light. You got a choice. You've always got a choice, and don't let anyone tell you differently, you hear me?"

I looked at them both and wondered what I would do. She was everything my heart desired at that moment, but nothing that it needed or really wanted when all was said and done.

"Listen," I said to the girl, "Are you okay to go home on your own?"
"Come with me," she replied, "Come with me and stay with me forever."
"I'm sorry..."

With one last painful look at her I turned away and was immediately taken up in the arm of the fisherman who whispered into my ear:
"Follow me now, lad."

"THERE'S ONE OVER THERE MACSTER!" he shouted and started running off down the road, I followed, half running and half skipping as the black cat danced around my feet and shot off into the night chasing after another bang and whistle.

I kept on running after the two mavericks and as I ran I felt an odd sense of joy creep up on me, something that hadn't happened in a while. But the more I ran the further away the cat and the fisherman seemed to be, the noise of the fireworks got dimmer and dimmer and eventually I had to concede that I'd lost them.

I remember that I felt a sense of hurt at that moment. This man had seemed to promise so much and yet now he had deserted me... but when I opened my eyes I found that he hadn't deserted me at all, but had led me back to my home.

There it was, right in front of me, safe and sound with not a hint of fire or damage. The bombs had missed it that night although much of the rest of the city was still smouldering.

I've never seen either the fisherman or the lady ever again, but my life seemed to alter that night and although the next few years brought a lot of hurt and grief I'd have to admit that when the pain came, it always brought with it hope.

Sometimes, when I looked out of my window at night I would see the shadowy figure of a black cat looking up at me from the other end of the street. I heard that when it was there, it stayed there all night and would not budge for anything until the morning came.


 

 

Reviews

[Red Raven]

' heard a voice weeping in the night, mixed in with sobs that were coming from a figure hidden amongst the dark. It was a female voice, sounding like silver or some other precious metal; not a warm and rich voice but one that seemed to cut right into me and speak to something inside there. It seemed to call me, and as it did the fears that had brought me to this strange place vanished. '

- Love the way you narrate. Verry well and thoughtfully written. It's a nice read. Guess you should stick to both- Poem as well as story.

Thanks for sharing.