42
A
rthur walked out of the hospital
feeling like his whole world had
been destroyed in an instant. He
stopped and looked around, the world
looked so different now, so cruel and
unforgiving. Even the old pub across the
road seemed dark and daunting, the
laughs from the inside contrasting with
his depression like white and black.
Only a week ago, he felt happier than
ever - his grandchildren had been
christened. He was there, vicariously, at
a little church in Suffolk, tucked away by
a river. The water was as clear as the
babies' eyes; the trees as dark brown as
his daughter's long hair.
He never knew his life could change in a
single phone call.
But it had, and now he was alone, alone
in this cold, careless, black and white
world. It felt as though everywhere he
went, he was against the wind.
The number 42 bus approached, but he
couldn't bear sitting on it by himself; he
would walk tonight.
It was Friday night, so most young people
had gone out for the night. Arthur longed
to be young again, without worry again,
without sadness.
Arthur kept walking past places he knew so
well, but they felt like he had never been
there before. The 24-hour corner shop,
suit shop and the local. He knew the man
there, Tim; even though he was only a
shopkeeper, he felt like Arthur's only friend.
The church bells chirped eleven as Arthur
sat down for a rest. He wasn't a religious
man, but on this occasion he bowed his
head and prayed that he could carry on
living life like before.
Arthur was almost dreading getting back
home; maybe that was really why he
walked. Almost as if his mind had
subconsciously put up an emotional
guard.
Without noticing, he turned the corner,
and it was above him, the house. With
its dark, dull rooms and a ridiculous
gnome outside the doorstep. Arthur
pulled the keys out of his pocket and
forced one of them into the rusty old lock.
He stopped halfway through turning the
lock. Arthur could hear her voice in the
lock, like a swirling tornado of happiness
and sadness. They must cancel each
other out because all he could feel was
nothing, a gaping hole in his being.
Arthur finally turned the key and opened
the door into the old place. The dusty
rooms filled with memories of her. Maybe
this was just a dream, maybe it was time
to change, and just leave it all behind?
He slouched down onto his red sofa and
turned on the ten o'clock news.
Panorama was on, something about the
government stealing taxpayers' money.
The pips, they sounded familiar. The
ECG, four short, one long, the long one
seemed to go for all eternity.
That last pip, the last sound of Virginia.
The Old Place
by Will Cashmore
Johanna Kastner A2