Labour of Love

Labour of Love

They stood alone, barely visible in the thick, dusty air. Each slant of
each broken roof shaped by the grubby feet of yesterday's youth. At
night you can still hear the games the children used to play, the songs
that would fill up each starless sky with bursts of light and gleams of
hope. You can see the rust spots where determined tears fell from
lonely eyes, eyes like collapsed coalmines, where emotions are so often
trapped.

When I stand here in the middle of the day, when the sun spills bright
orange yolk onto the earth, I can see my father. He's walking along the
edge of the cliff overlooking the factories, and he smiles at me. He's
wearing the faded overalls he always did, and his hair is long and
unruly. He only stays for a minute, and when he's gone, I don't feel
sad because I know he's curled up inside my head, his mind locking into
place with mine. Those times are magical, but soon they are gone, and
the sunlight has been scrambled once more and left to burn into crisp,
black ash.

I used to love those factories. Every minute I was there was filled
with adventure and excitement. To me those dark buildings became the
very light through which I discovered myself. My dad's friends became
my friends, and even though they were so much older, we seemed to
understand one another. I remember how I would spend the day running
through the trees, pretending I was a tiger or a cheater, gaining on my
prey. The sun would filter through the treetops and hang on to my
hands, pulling me forwards as I danced through the amber leaves that
had collected on the ground. I used to take my school work there in the
evenings and sit for hours drawing pictures of knights and horses on my
arithmetic sums. When the sun disappeared the stars would awaken and
spread themselves in every pocket of the sky, so that I was never alone
and never afraid.

I wander now to the great steel door, and run my fingers over the
sharp, ribbed surface, which is strangely soft and gentle. As I peer
through the smudged windows where I used to view my father working, I
now see my mother working, cooking dinner at the stove as my brothers
and I run around her, laughing and screaming. I see my mothers face for
the first time then. Her eyes are huge and full of tears. Large black
bruises are visible under her long sleeves. Sleeves she usually lets
hang down. My father sits in the corner, smoke escapes from his pipe
and encircles my mother, chaining her hands as she is dragged into the
flames. I look away, my fists clenching, and there is my father again
on the cliff, and this time when he smiles I lower my eyes. I turn to
the window once more, but now the room is empty, people replaced by old
grey machines and ancient smudges, where dirty fingers once pressed
against the glass.

It's daytime again, but the wind is cool and the sun no longer spills
onto the earth. The trees, now jagged and bare whirl up to the sky like
chocking hands. I look to the factories which by now are far in the
distance, but they lie concealed behind shadows. Gentle rain begins to
fall around me, although the ground a metre away is hard and dry. I let
the cool water trickle over me and soak into my skin, and when I look
down once again I am standing beside a vast white lake. Golden sunlight
pours from the sky and gently seeps into the water, and although the
surface lies still, untouched, I am not alone. At the far end of the
lake a young couple are standing hand in hand looking at me. They
stare, out of focus, smudged and distorted, but I can still make out
the colour of their eyes, the shapes of their faces. I smile as I make
out his hair, dark and unruly, her slender arms, white and untouched.
They gradually move forward into the centre of the lake, each step
blurring their faces, until they are just a shimmer of gold seeping
into a shimmer of white. Then they are gone, vanished into the sunlight
from which they are seemingly made.

I take off my boots and slowly step into the icy water. Soon I am up to
my waist and I take a deep breath and dive under. The water rushes
towards me and attacks my body, but I feel no pain, just the calming
soft rhythm of the water moving around me. Then I feel my breath
escaping me and I look around for what I came to find. There is a small
trapdoor on the bottom of the lake and with my last ounce of breath I
heave it open and fall in, dragging the rusty steel door behind
me.

END