13.2.10
11.2.10
9.2.10
A story about being alive.
Alex’s brow furrowed.
"Turn the T.V. off."
"Why?" Constance’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
"I don't want to see."
"What, but -"
"I don't want to watch it happening!" Alex stood up and turned the television off at the switch.
"But we need to know, Alex. We need to know what's happening."
"We KNOW what's happening! We've seen enough! Heard enough! We know, and there's nothing we can do to change it."
"For God's sake -"
"What do you think you’re doing?!"
"What?"
"You’re so calm! So collected! Don’t you have any emotion? Haven’t you got anything to say? This is GLOBAL Constance!"
"You know what. I'm turning the T.V. back on."
"Don't!" Alex moved to stand directly in front of her.
"Don't be a child!" Constance yelled in a sudden surge of fury. An angry tear squeezed out of Alex’s left eye. "Oh, Alex . . ."
"Well what!? There's nothing we can do, there's no point in doing anything now, what ever we do, it'll end the same way!" Angrily, he pushed away his tears.
"You don't know that. Maybe nothing needs to be done. These things, they . . they just end. It'll end soon."
"How the hell do you know? You’ve got no idea!"
"But these things, they happen all the time. Its never the - its not the . . ."
"Not the what? Not the end of the WORLD?"
"Well Alex, well? What then? What if it is?"
"W-what?"
"What if it is. What if. You've spent all this time telling me that this is it. This is how it ends. We can watch it, we can run. What difference does any of this make if it is."
"Yes, well I -"
"How do you, Alex, intend to spend what little there may be of the rest of your life?"
"I . . . I don't know."
"I'm serious! If this is the end, what should we do? We don't know how long we've got. We can do anything. Anything at all. What do you want to do? Where do you want to go? Who do you want to see?"
"Don't . ."
"Don't what!? You're convinced this is how it ends, but some how you can't seem to accept it! You wont watch it happen, you don't even know what you want any more." Shaking her head, she strode defiantly from the room, leaving Alex sinking into the sofa, staring across the room at the freshly slammed door.
After sitting motionless, lost in the empty blackness of the television screen for about ten minutes, he got up, and almost subconsciously walked over to the mirror and found himself eye to eye with a blonde, scruffy, red-eyed, nobody. A nobody. The insignificance he felt was phenomenal. A thousand lives seemed to wash through him, and he felt their sheer unintelligible panic, like animals trying desperately to escape a forest fire. The scale of fear he felt for his own life was suddenly unimportant, suddenly wiped out by the mere thought of the death and destruction to come -
Alex blinked. Realising that he’d been holding his breath, he let out a short, sharp gasp of breath. Turning towards the door, he walked across the room and out on to the balcony, stopping just outside the doorway. Constance was standing facing in to the soft wind with her eyes closed and her cheeks glistening in the morning light where tears had been.
“Alex,” she whispered, eyes still closed, “lets get away. Can’t we just get away, until . .” her voice was swept away as the wind picked up, and she squeezed her eyes tighter shut. Alex lowered his head and looked down at her bare feet, toes curled, almost hiding her painted toenails. Get away, he thought, run away.
“Constance,” he moved a step closer, “Connie. . .” she opened her eyes slowly and turned to look at him. Her grey eyes were almost emotionless, but they sparkled in the cold sunlight and Alex knew then that they wouldn’t be in the flat for much longer. “We’re leaving, aren’t we Connie.”
“Think about it. We could do anything. Lets leave here, like nothings happening. Lets go and do something that you only read about in love stories. Lets live a little while we’ve got the chance.” Alex started to laugh, or cry, he didn’t know which, but he reached out and twisted a few strands of Constance’s hair around his finger.
“What are we waiting for?” he grinned.
***
Alex’s knackered old VW Beetle sped through unmapped countryside. With Constance at the wheel, Alex felt his life shaking violently in her hands, and he held his breath.
“Alex?” Constance glanced at him, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, her white knuckles beginning to look skeletal.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” he said, as calmly as the swaying fields running beside them, “Where do you want to go?”
Constance sighed as Alex very slowly crossed his legs in the passenger’s seat. “The seaside.” she giggled, as the tiny car took off down a road so straight that it seemed to stretch far over the horizon and split the landscape in two. They drove for about an hour and a half, in silence. Occasionally Alex would glance at Constance, wondering what they would be doing now if none of this had happened. Or even if they just didn’t know that it was happening. Would they be sat on the sofa watching day-time television, or still in bed drinking tea, listening to classical music and putting off deadlines. Until now, Alex had always thought he’d appreciated life pretty fully. But now he craved the touch of earth, river, leaf on his skin, to know that life was life and he was living it. So he watched the perfect sun glowing proudly in the otherwise clear blue sky, and the fields were laid out, quilting the hills as if it were a blanket over a body, still in it’s sleep.
When they got to the coast, they didn’t know where they were, except that they had gone as far as they could get. They talked about the shape of the land and how they were right on the edge, imagining themselves on a map, standing on the green, dipping their toes in to the blue. It was on that day that nobody but them was on the beach. The sand, the sea, the sky, the long grass swaying on the tips on the dunes, it was theirs. And they knew it. If you had followed them on to the beach, you would have walked over their shoes, buried under the sand, and seen Alex’s socks hung on the rocks like a child’s dangling from a chair, waiting for someone to lift them down. The loose top layer of sand meant that their slow feet barely made any recognisable imprint. They walked until the beach was no longer a beach, and then turned and walked back, so slowly, as if they had never done anything except walk that beach up and down their whole lives, and to them, it almost felt as though it were that way. They left Alex’s socks and their shoes, and when they reached the car they lay on the bonnet and watched the sun set. The lovers waited until the sky was crossed with stars and then they turned on the car headlights and danced to the Beatles on the crackling car radio, and they felt as they were celebrating a new year dawning. And hours later as the sun rose and kissed the deserted beach, it found Alex and Constance with waiting eyes, still anticipating the sun’s return to it’s kingdom.
Reluctantly they clambered back into the familiar leathery musk of the car and with Alex driving, Constance sat in the back, watching the sun through the rear window. They drove north through countryside for two hours before the car gave up on itself. Alex and Constance stretched their legs out of the doors and felt the gravelly tarmac with their bare feet.
“What’re we gonna do?” as Alex looked at her worried face, he smiled.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “you’re the one with the plan.”
“Oh, well, I . .”
“Come on, Connie.” he laughed, taking a step up the road that stretched out in front of them. Alex was always a step ahead of Constance, the lightning to her thunder. It was another hour and a half before they came across anything at all. That anything was a house on top of hill. A tiny fairy tale cottage that stood alone, seemingly watching over the fields. Alex turned to Constance and held out his hand.
“Shall we?” he smiled, and they clambered up the hill, grabbing chunks of grass and pulling each other up. When they reached the front door, Alex knocked and that was all it took for it to swing open. Stepping inside they called out, but no reply came. They walked into the dusty living room and were greeted by the crackling of an ancient, forgotten television, sitting in the corner, covered in cobwebs. Alex perched himself on the edge of the threadbare sofa that sat facing the television as Constance went to brush away the dust and dirt from the screen. Squeezing herself up next to Alex, they listened as the picture flickered.
“- over. Reports now in that it is all over. I repeat, the scare is over. Today has been declared a national holiday - an international holiday. Programs will resume as normal tomorrow. The scare is now over.”
Constance sank back in to the sofa and closed her eyes, "Live every day as if it were your last."
"Turn the T.V. off."
"Why?" Constance’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
"I don't want to see."
"What, but -"
"I don't want to watch it happening!" Alex stood up and turned the television off at the switch.
"But we need to know, Alex. We need to know what's happening."
"We KNOW what's happening! We've seen enough! Heard enough! We know, and there's nothing we can do to change it."
"For God's sake -"
"What do you think you’re doing?!"
"What?"
"You’re so calm! So collected! Don’t you have any emotion? Haven’t you got anything to say? This is GLOBAL Constance!"
"You know what. I'm turning the T.V. back on."
"Don't!" Alex moved to stand directly in front of her.
"Don't be a child!" Constance yelled in a sudden surge of fury. An angry tear squeezed out of Alex’s left eye. "Oh, Alex . . ."
"Well what!? There's nothing we can do, there's no point in doing anything now, what ever we do, it'll end the same way!" Angrily, he pushed away his tears.
"You don't know that. Maybe nothing needs to be done. These things, they . . they just end. It'll end soon."
"How the hell do you know? You’ve got no idea!"
"But these things, they happen all the time. Its never the - its not the . . ."
"Not the what? Not the end of the WORLD?"
"Well Alex, well? What then? What if it is?"
"W-what?"
"What if it is. What if. You've spent all this time telling me that this is it. This is how it ends. We can watch it, we can run. What difference does any of this make if it is."
"Yes, well I -"
"How do you, Alex, intend to spend what little there may be of the rest of your life?"
"I . . . I don't know."
"I'm serious! If this is the end, what should we do? We don't know how long we've got. We can do anything. Anything at all. What do you want to do? Where do you want to go? Who do you want to see?"
"Don't . ."
"Don't what!? You're convinced this is how it ends, but some how you can't seem to accept it! You wont watch it happen, you don't even know what you want any more." Shaking her head, she strode defiantly from the room, leaving Alex sinking into the sofa, staring across the room at the freshly slammed door.
After sitting motionless, lost in the empty blackness of the television screen for about ten minutes, he got up, and almost subconsciously walked over to the mirror and found himself eye to eye with a blonde, scruffy, red-eyed, nobody. A nobody. The insignificance he felt was phenomenal. A thousand lives seemed to wash through him, and he felt their sheer unintelligible panic, like animals trying desperately to escape a forest fire. The scale of fear he felt for his own life was suddenly unimportant, suddenly wiped out by the mere thought of the death and destruction to come -
Alex blinked. Realising that he’d been holding his breath, he let out a short, sharp gasp of breath. Turning towards the door, he walked across the room and out on to the balcony, stopping just outside the doorway. Constance was standing facing in to the soft wind with her eyes closed and her cheeks glistening in the morning light where tears had been.
“Alex,” she whispered, eyes still closed, “lets get away. Can’t we just get away, until . .” her voice was swept away as the wind picked up, and she squeezed her eyes tighter shut. Alex lowered his head and looked down at her bare feet, toes curled, almost hiding her painted toenails. Get away, he thought, run away.
“Constance,” he moved a step closer, “Connie. . .” she opened her eyes slowly and turned to look at him. Her grey eyes were almost emotionless, but they sparkled in the cold sunlight and Alex knew then that they wouldn’t be in the flat for much longer. “We’re leaving, aren’t we Connie.”
“Think about it. We could do anything. Lets leave here, like nothings happening. Lets go and do something that you only read about in love stories. Lets live a little while we’ve got the chance.” Alex started to laugh, or cry, he didn’t know which, but he reached out and twisted a few strands of Constance’s hair around his finger.
“What are we waiting for?” he grinned.
***
Alex’s knackered old VW Beetle sped through unmapped countryside. With Constance at the wheel, Alex felt his life shaking violently in her hands, and he held his breath.
“Alex?” Constance glanced at him, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, her white knuckles beginning to look skeletal.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” he said, as calmly as the swaying fields running beside them, “Where do you want to go?”
Constance sighed as Alex very slowly crossed his legs in the passenger’s seat. “The seaside.” she giggled, as the tiny car took off down a road so straight that it seemed to stretch far over the horizon and split the landscape in two. They drove for about an hour and a half, in silence. Occasionally Alex would glance at Constance, wondering what they would be doing now if none of this had happened. Or even if they just didn’t know that it was happening. Would they be sat on the sofa watching day-time television, or still in bed drinking tea, listening to classical music and putting off deadlines. Until now, Alex had always thought he’d appreciated life pretty fully. But now he craved the touch of earth, river, leaf on his skin, to know that life was life and he was living it. So he watched the perfect sun glowing proudly in the otherwise clear blue sky, and the fields were laid out, quilting the hills as if it were a blanket over a body, still in it’s sleep.
When they got to the coast, they didn’t know where they were, except that they had gone as far as they could get. They talked about the shape of the land and how they were right on the edge, imagining themselves on a map, standing on the green, dipping their toes in to the blue. It was on that day that nobody but them was on the beach. The sand, the sea, the sky, the long grass swaying on the tips on the dunes, it was theirs. And they knew it. If you had followed them on to the beach, you would have walked over their shoes, buried under the sand, and seen Alex’s socks hung on the rocks like a child’s dangling from a chair, waiting for someone to lift them down. The loose top layer of sand meant that their slow feet barely made any recognisable imprint. They walked until the beach was no longer a beach, and then turned and walked back, so slowly, as if they had never done anything except walk that beach up and down their whole lives, and to them, it almost felt as though it were that way. They left Alex’s socks and their shoes, and when they reached the car they lay on the bonnet and watched the sun set. The lovers waited until the sky was crossed with stars and then they turned on the car headlights and danced to the Beatles on the crackling car radio, and they felt as they were celebrating a new year dawning. And hours later as the sun rose and kissed the deserted beach, it found Alex and Constance with waiting eyes, still anticipating the sun’s return to it’s kingdom.
Reluctantly they clambered back into the familiar leathery musk of the car and with Alex driving, Constance sat in the back, watching the sun through the rear window. They drove north through countryside for two hours before the car gave up on itself. Alex and Constance stretched their legs out of the doors and felt the gravelly tarmac with their bare feet.
“What’re we gonna do?” as Alex looked at her worried face, he smiled.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “you’re the one with the plan.”
“Oh, well, I . .”
“Come on, Connie.” he laughed, taking a step up the road that stretched out in front of them. Alex was always a step ahead of Constance, the lightning to her thunder. It was another hour and a half before they came across anything at all. That anything was a house on top of hill. A tiny fairy tale cottage that stood alone, seemingly watching over the fields. Alex turned to Constance and held out his hand.
“Shall we?” he smiled, and they clambered up the hill, grabbing chunks of grass and pulling each other up. When they reached the front door, Alex knocked and that was all it took for it to swing open. Stepping inside they called out, but no reply came. They walked into the dusty living room and were greeted by the crackling of an ancient, forgotten television, sitting in the corner, covered in cobwebs. Alex perched himself on the edge of the threadbare sofa that sat facing the television as Constance went to brush away the dust and dirt from the screen. Squeezing herself up next to Alex, they listened as the picture flickered.
“- over. Reports now in that it is all over. I repeat, the scare is over. Today has been declared a national holiday - an international holiday. Programs will resume as normal tomorrow. The scare is now over.”
Constance sank back in to the sofa and closed her eyes, "Live every day as if it were your last."
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