Mark disliked Saturdays for only one particular reason, but this time around he hated it for two reasons. Saturdays meant going into the city centre to ‘meet the author’.
Today, he hated it even more because it was raining. Mark and Luke and another former housemate lived just slightly out of the city, due to the rent being too high in the city.
Since neither of them had their own transport, going to the city centre meant taking the bus. No one really liked taking the bus, and they usually walked to the city centre on good days.
It’s funny how the people in the city always drove wherever they went, even to the store next door. They said the air was polluted and the city was a treeless heat island that made you feel as though you’ve climbed a mountain and got back down in a hurry. Mark personally thought that the people were exaggerating. No doubt it was hot, but the walk to and from the city made him much more refreshed, compared to when he takes the bus.
The stress of meeting ‘the author’ was getting to him as each Saturday passed by. “The author’ was a high profiled local children’s author. She had run out of ideas, and her company decided to recruit part time writers to help her with the stories. Mark was one of them. Although he was utterly disgusted at the thought that he was writing for a fraud, he also felt sorry for the little children who worshipped the author, thinking that all the fabulous adventures of Molly and Peter came out of her head, when in fact the stories came out of at least 5 different authors, all still looking for that one piece of work that will bring them out of their miserable lives.
It irked him that these sessions with the author always resulted in the stories being heavily edited, and it ended up with him being unhappy on Saturday afternoons, whilst other folks walked around in parks, or did some shopping and enjoyed their weekends in various other ways.
He wondered if the old job would have been better than what he was doing now. It was much better paying, it was a full time job, and the adrenaline rush was great while it lasted.
His wandering mind was interrupted by the shouts of some kids… something about rainbows… he looked out the window, and true enough. The downpour had stopped and the sun was shining weakly through some clouds. Maybe he didn’t have to take the bus after all later that day.
Alas! Take the bus he did. The rain poured with extra enthusiasm, and he took it as a personal insult. Wet, chilled to the bone and sneezing, he entered the conference room where they had their weekly meetings of plots, subplots and crazy adventures that was not welcomed as he wished they would be. By the time the writers were bored, pushed around like little kids, and given extra things and subplots to work on, the rain had stopped, allowing another slight ray of sunshine to pass through.
Mark walked his usual route, the rain that poured earlier allowed the air to remain fresh and cool, and he felt happy walking through the park, avoiding puddles of water, and hearing the birds in the trees.
“Mark!!”
Someone had called his name from behind. Luke.
Luke did a small jog and reached Mark, slightly breathless
“C’mon, join us, we’re playing football on the muddy fields, seven aside”
“I’m not dressed to play football” said Mark gesturing at his grey sweater and jeans”
“What doesn’t kill you won’t hurt you. Heard of anyone who died while playing football?” Luke attempted to joke
“Yeah, he got struck by lightning”
Something in Mark’s tone jolted Luke to his senses, and he knew that wasn’t a joke.
“Ok, hey dude…I’m sorry. Had no idea. Wanna watch then? We still need 1 more person though.”
“I’ll pass this time” said Mark in a tone that seemed to come from far away.
“Right… see ya later!”
Luke jogged back to the other side of the park towards the field and disappeared from Mark’s view. Mark instead stood quietly for awhile, his mind racing back to the time when he was 11.
Everyone he knew had told him that it wasn’t his fault at all. He tried to believe it but it took too much effort. Each time something similar occurred, or when circumstances and situations pointed towards that direction he grew cold and distant.
Although he had grown to get used to the fact that it actually was never his fault, the memory remained with him always. It drained his energy, and left him pensive for years, when he actually should have been a boisterous kid, playing practical jokes on people and playing football, like his brothers.
Derek had been the one of the best under 12 football players their little old town had in a long while. All the teachers, the parents and practically everyone else in the neighbourhood adored him.
Derek was obsessed about football.
His death had been a somewhat mysterious occurrence. A bunch of boys were having a game of football, the real one… not seven a side, when suddenly the sky was brightened with lightning flashes. Mark had thought the whole effect of the lightning against the light blue sky to be something quite spectacular, unlike anything he has ever seen before. Which was quite true in a way…
Their town was quiet, set quite far back from tall buildings and busy roads, and rarely witnessed anything out of the ordinary. Including natural disasters.
The boys, mesmerised by the display across the sky stood rooted to the ground watching the flashes that took interesting shapes. There was no rain, so none of them ran for cover. Something loud descended upon the boys, who all ran in different directions. There was a dull thud in the silence that came thereafter. One of them lay motionless on the grass.
“Derek!” Mark yelled at the figure on the ground. No response.
He tried to run towards Derek, not really knowing why. There was some sort of fear in him, unfounded and yet it was extremely strong. His attempt to run back towards the field was thwarted by someone who grabbed him from the back.
“Let me go!” Mark yelled as he attempted to break loose.
“No. He’s dead. There’s nothing you can do. Come with me”
The voice sounded oddly calming. It was as though it had come from another place, a far away place where babies slept peacefully to beautiful lullabies and rainbows coloured the skies in gorgeous hues.
Mark had some difficulty remembering the rest of the incident. His parents, after some time decided to tell him that the paramedics had found him unconscious by the side of the field. All the other terrified boys had run off in fear. And someone had called for help, maybe a little too late, or not.
“Like someone once said, everyone is obsessed about something. You could be obsessed about your favourite sports team. Or your hair. Or your job….”
“Damn! This thing is not working. I need to create a strong enough fictional character that can have a great impact on whoever who reads it. Ha! Ha! It will be a hoot if I said that I borrowed the quote from Shakespeare.” Mark thought
It’s hard to expand a palaeontologist’s character into a something more sinister. An obsession with dragons, seemed like a good idea when he first started. But now, it made Duncan look like a single dimensioned character from a simple computer role playing game.
Mark had second thoughts about his character. He was tempted to change Duncan into a woman. He was suddenly flooded with ideas that would require him to retype whatever he had written.
“Hey sis, how you doin’?”
“Mark! What a surprise… I’m great. How are you?”
“I’m cool… Got a question for you though.”
“Alright, shoot…”
“Okay, say you were a 25 year old palaeontologist. What could possibly cross your mind?”
“Err… you still there?” said Mark after a couple of minutes silence
“Yeah, Mark… it’s not the easiest question you know… I suppose I would start with thinking about locations and tools and stuff… “
“Hmmm… I was hoping you’d give me some insight to a 25 year old girl’s mind”
“What makes you think I’ll know what goes through a 25 year old girl’s mind?”
“Cos you’re a girl… c’mon sis. Surprise me.”
After a long moment of silence, Mark’s sister says something.
“She’d want to be the first to make an interesting discovery. She’s up ahead against all the male palaeontologist’s whom she thinks are out to put her down.’
“Who?”
“Your 25 year old palaeontologist… who else?”
“So, she’s a feminist of sorts…”
“Yeah, I’ll approve of her immediately… new girlfriend, huh?”
“Not really, more like a dream girl. Hey sis, sorry for cutting this short, but I gotta split. Stuff to do. Take care!”
“You too”
Mark laughed to himself at the thought of his sister’s remark regarding the new girlfriend. He couldn’t understand what could be so funny about it, it seemed logical enough… Besides they always made assumptions about things… like how the woman who had a car wash most probably wasn’t allowed to play with water as a child and having a car wash was to get back at the folks who prevented her from playing with water, although I seems odd that she doesn’t really do the washing herself, or how some of the cows which grazed near the industrial area might have super powers as they actually run when crossing the road, and graze lazily on the grassy areas. It’s as if they knew how to cross roads without accidentally getting killed or killing someone.
------------------------------------------
The floor was scattered with papers with miniscule words printed on them. In the middle of the room, Luke sat crossed legged on the floor, with mismatched socks on his feet. (They were always cold even in warm weather, which was always… by the way), a pen swirling in his right hand and a bandanna tied around his head. He almost looked like a pirate. This possibly meant that he was prepping himself for a role.
Office crap is a comedy of sorts where Luke plays the role of an annoying, pain in the ass executive. It’s a far cry from his pirate getup, which was his method of displaying a “do not disturb” message.
It’s not that he gets into a pirate outfit each time he wants to be alone, instead he gets into something you’d never be caught wearing anywhere outside the comfort of your own home. Take the mismatched socks for instance, or a faux fur hat when the temperature is about 30 C. Once he walked around the house in an apron over his clothes and a chef’s hat over his head. At that time he was concentrating on his role as a ghost haunting an insurance company.
Mark often ignored Luke at times like these. It’s best to leave creative people to mull over their own thoughts in complete silence… those temperamental jerks (when they’re having their bouts of ‘Oh, I can do whatever I want because I’m creative and people love me’)
Otherwise you’d most probably get ‘the look’ from them.
0 comments:
Post a Comment