Fragments – three

On a fairly nondescript day in the back of an anonymous car siting in a quiet street under an autumnal tree he saw it for the first time. His father had gone inside for a while. Said he’d be back. Said he wouldn’t be long. Dads are always longer than they say they will be when they leave you in the car, waiting. This time Brian wasn’t alone though. His father had gone inside Mrs. Evans’ house and Brian was occupied and so hardly noticed his father’s absence. It was the first time, sitting in the car that no-one was looking at, as there was no-one on the street to look, that he saw Spider Man. Brian’s dad had bought him the comic at a petrol station and now he was hooked.

It wasn’t clear from Brian’s father’s behaviour whether he was having an affair with Mrs. Evans or perhaps doing a drug deal in there or even bribing her. It wasn’t even clear if there was a Mrs. Evans – and Brian was too occupied with his reading to provide a clue as to her existence, let alone her role in his story. Maybe Brian’s dad was a cop, and Mrs. Evans was an elderly woman, and her family didn’t visit her very often so Brian’s dad occasionally dropped in to make sure she was eating well and putting out her rubbish on bin night. It really isn’t important. Spider Man is important. Get it?


The dut-dut-dut rhythm beat on the corrugated iron roof, voluptuous raindrops sounding like a small hammer tapping with increasing rapidity. The cat looked up, then decided he was bored with the whole thing immediately and rested his twice slumbered head back down again on the small pillow. A small white dog with a brown patch over one eye cocked its ear and angled its head and looked expectantly about the room for signs of how to respond to the impending excitement. Rivulets formed on windows, sending streaks of grime from the top to the bottom of the dirt covered pains. The fan continued to slowly churn, up there, on the ceiling, but now a sharp breeze blew in the front door and right through the small wooden house and out the back door, disturbing papers on tables, and rendering the ceiling fan pointless.

Thunder was heard, distant, then closer.

Rain fell hard and grew loud and Gerald stood up. He carefully took off his shirt, folded it and placed it on the armchair where he sat to listen to the radio. He shouted, “Let’s go, Nellie!” and ran out the back door. The small white dog ran outside too.

The man and his dog rolled around on the ground, among brown patches of grass, and caught rain drops in their open mouths. The cat wasn’t so excited at the first rainfall in two years. He refused to come outside at all.

Published in: on January 22, 2013 at 8:13 pm  Leave a Comment  

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