Down and Out - An Observation

A short piece from the point of view of a down and out character reminiscing about life in the city, loss and alienation.

P1

I sat in her office. I felt incredibly small.

She looked at me with those demonic eyes - eyes that could make grown men tremble. They were oil black, unyielding, cold. The eyes are the window to the soul, so they say... What does it say about a person when you look in their eyes and you see nothing; you are consumed by a deep sense of dread.

A terrible silence lurked in the room, a hostile silence, one that she seemed to be cultivating, nurturing. She weaponised silence. Cruel, abundantly cruel.

Her lips parted for a moment as though she was about to speak. No words followed.

***

I closed my eyes. 

I saw her in dark robes, a scythe in hand, face as white as death. She guided me towards the guillotine. I stood there facing the gathered masses. They looked at me with horror and joy burning in their eyes. Silence again. The gasps of women. The men begin to jeer. It's over.

She handed me some papers. Meaningless numbers rigidly sitting in tight little boxes. She had highlighted the pertinent pieces of information and soon began her lecture, letting go of the silence. 

"So if you look at this data you will quickly see, Peter, that your stats have been stagnant for many months now. You're not making the amount of sales you once were and you're consistently at the bottom of the pack. I appreciate that life must have become more difficult after Gloria left but that was some time ago. You have two choices: you can go back under Stuart's tutelage, which will mean a drop in pay and prestige until we feel as though you're ready to come back to this position or you can leave."

P2

The bitter winter winds walked the city streets with me. Solemn clouds began to cry as rain fell from the heavens. Everything in the city was grey, some variation of grey. 

I sought out refuge in an old diner. Drab paintings with little artistic merit clang to the walls for dear life as though the fact that they were on display somehow detracted from their hideousness... The smell of coffee and cigarettes was enough to bring a slight smile to my face. 

Cloudy white table tops were decorated with little brown rims where people had placed their cups. Hunger. I ordered a steak, fries and a glass of water. Consumption. Tearing through my meal I found that my mind had gone into autopilot. Sometimes it's best not to think. 

***

To fill myself with a sense of purpose I decided to hop on a bus. You don't use public transport unless you have somewhere to be, some place to go. The traffic was thick, slow, glacial. I surveyed the buildings, the little concrete boxes which my world was made up of. 

People walked by, some with vigour and energy. Others looked worn down, lifeless, as though gravity was acting upon them differently somehow, compressing them - they looked as though just staying upright required some degree of exertion. Everything in the city seemed to be a contradiction. 

Girls reluctant to give in to the demands of winter walked past churches in tiny outfits. People in track suits sat outside fine establishments drinking cheap beer. Policemen walked past local brothels, unaware.  

P3

Gloria, I thought of her tiny little hands. It seemed ridiculous. Out of all the things in this city I had come to love, I loved nothing like I loved her little hands. Everything disappears in the city. Nothing can last too long. It is a place of perpetual rejuvenation. Jobs, lovers, the places where you feel at home; you have them for a moment and then they're gone. 

I sat at home in front of the TV. Docile. I told myself that this is how I wanted to spend my time, watching these phantom characters, not truly a part of my life, acting out their stories while I rotted away on my couch. The bright glow pacified me, keeping the darkness at bay. Lamenting. All that had gone, what was it worth? What is the worth of something which is no longer with us? 

Longing to reach for the phone, my hand felt heavy. I just wanted to hear her voice, to bring her back in to my life for just a moment. I wanted the idle chit chat that would make this hollow apartment seem less empty - the chit chat that would make these torturous seconds melt away. 

Yet I lacked courage.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

This was a wonderful read; very moody and descriptive drawing the reader in and creating a sense of empathy. A great piece of writing. I enjoyed this.

[C Peril]

Cheers very much for the review Fabian, it's very nice of you to take the time to read over my work.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

It was my pleasure. This is an excellent piece of flash fiction or drama. REALLY liked this one!