The Wanderer
By nikthegeordie
Wed, 15 Sep 2004
- 345 reads
style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">It was raining
when I got up. It was raining when I went to sleep. It's always
raining, always greasy and slimy. What day is it? What time is it? My
clock says two. Am, pm? When was the last time I saw the sun? Monotony.
Working and sleeping and eating and drinking. I'm not even sure how old
I am anymore.
EN-GB"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">I clean the
streets, that s what I do. I used to have one of those lawnmower
things, you know the ones you sit on with brushes instead of blades?
But that was lost or stolen a long time ago. Constantly wet and cold,
up and down the teaming streets hour after hour, day after day. In all
the years not once have I met someone I knew. No, wait. That's not
true. There was this old homeless guy. He'd demand coffee and eat my
food and I'd let him. It just seemed natural. He seemed to have known
me quite a long time, he'd talk all the time, saying he made me, saying
I belonged to him. I never really understood. Sometimes he'd tell me
about the sun. About the ocean. I've never seen the ocean. I've never
seen grass or trees (I remember, before the factories and the rain,
other children. We'd play in the moss and slime in an old warehouse. Is
that like grass? I hope not. Sometimes I can smell it, real grass.
Sweet and fresh in my dreams. A memory you think? Maybe, not mine
though). class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">I liked the
old man, he'd been following me for years, or maybe I'd been following
him. I don't even know if I've forgotten or just never knew. Maybe we
were just going to the same
place. style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">The streets
are a lot quieter here; I brush rubble and dust as well as litter and
blood. Someone once told me people still live out here in the empty
shells and craters. Once, I heard an old bomb go off. It must have been
lying there for years because I couldn't remember any bombs falling for
a long time. Anyway, it startled me; it was the first sound I'd heard
in days or weeks other than the rain. I saw the cloud of dirt and
rubble erupt ahead of me and wandered over with my brooms. It would
need cleaning I knew. There were two children there; they don't live
around here anymore. They don't live round anywhere anymore. I just
swept them up and moved on. I found a hand a hundred or so feet away.
Just lying there, small and charred and bloody. I put it
away. style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">I'm heading
for the ocean. I can't really remember where I was going before I was
going to the ocean. I don't even know if I ever got there. It's hard,
remembering; when everything is grey all the time and the days aren't
really days but just times when you don't sleep. Times when you're
working. class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language:
EN-GB"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">The old man,
he told me how to get there, head south he said. Just keep heading
south. It was easy at first, the streets all pointed south or north or
west or east. I just followed the streets and the signs. I can't do
that anymore. I've come too far. The streets slip and slide and crawl
in all directions and I can't find the signs or the light and I wander
blind in circles. I wish the old man was here. So he could follow me or
I could follow him or we could walk side by side and he'd tell me about
the sun and the sparkling ocean. And the fields. And the
grass. style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">But I swept him up a long time ago. One
day he just broke so I had to put him away and start sweeping again.
It's strange but I'm never really lonely, I'm too busy. There's a lot
of cleaning to do, especially around here. I had to clean myself a
couple of times. Once someone wanted my brooms I think. They certainly
wanted something and wouldn't let me work, said I couldn't do it
anymore, said I had to go away with them. So I cleaned them up. I made
a mess first, I do that sometimes, but I always clean it up. I'm always
clean. style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> style="LETTER-SPACING: 1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">I had a dream
once, that I found the ocean. I spent my days sweeping the streets and
watched the sunset over the ocean and slept, all peaceful and warm
listening to the ocean. I'll find it one day. There's plenty of time.
I'll find the sun too I hope. Until then though, there's just now.
Always cold and wet and the sweet smell of the grass in my
dreams
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