Literature

Broadland Street
The Key
The Perfect Christmas
In One Brief Moment
Platform 15
Mrs Sanderson
The Release

'The Key'

Life is full of twists and turns, some of you will make it through, most of us won't. Whatever, that is of no concern when you look at the bigger picture, the scrolling landscape and its fractions as a whole. I can paint you an infinity that would baffle the mind or choke your future. I could do you a tragedy that would leave you lamenting the past, however what you really need is guidance. Well here goes, if you are a believer, then you already have a faith, yes? Good, then you are one of those and there is no shame, there is nothing wrong with that one, you do not need anything other than your chosen path, so go to it and do not read on. If you are still with me then you and I are alike, we require, no we demand an answer, right! So what is the question? Well, put simply and it's a very generic term, it is, ''How can we live with the fact that one day, we will never, ever be again?…'' and I use the plural as singular implies an egotistical forethought that I, and I alone have come to this realisation. Indeed, that can not possibly be the case, anyway, I'm rambling now so lets get back on track. Sometimes the answer to any question may lay in the question itself, after all others do it fine, with their faiths and so on and look at the scientists, they have it all mapped out. Well, maybe a little tale of woe will enlighten you, possibly by the end of it, you may even welcome the end, lets hope so, because it is inevitable is it not?; enter please, Mr. rounded Dave.

Convex, concave, he'd always been know as rounded Dave. Probably on account of his bottle-top glasses or bandy, hurried gait. Perhaps it was his well-rounded, portly shape, he never really knew, nor did he care or express an opinion to care. He was rounded Dave and that was that, that was how it had always been. Rounded Dave was a dreamer, a social misfit true enough, but he had ambitions, talent and he saw things, knew things that no one else ever possibly could. He knew everything, bar one thing and he wasn't going to let on what that was. When rounded found the key (he also liked just plain rounded, most of his friends called him by this name), it was a cold, October early morning and what a beautiful key it was, what a simply adorable thing. Maybe it was the answer to the (he called it) the never, ever as he would never, ever quite engage his mind to the question. "The never, ever, ah yes, the answer? perhaps, we shall see", he thought.

Now rounded never preached any form of religion, nor did he chastise anybody when they veered from their paths, which was usually more often than not. Like Hannah Jenkins, what a slut; mind you rounded wouldn't say no, that is of course, if she offered it to him. "Maybe now she would", he mused. Now he had the key, it would be different, everything could be different, that was its obvious purpose. If he could just show her what beauty lay within him or within the box? The box, ah yes, his lovely box. The never, ever and the box. Such glorious symmetry. It was all within his grasp, at long last, on one side, immortality or a reason for the existence of being and on the other, Jenkins offering of juicy labia. He smiled, what a fantastic juxtaposition; indeed, which one should he or could he deal with first.

It was late when Hannah got the message. It was written on a scrap of the Guardian and it was from that rounded Dave guy, fuck what an arsehole. There was always one complete dick at every college. He was Stonecross scum, a reject from downtown, always playing the I'm-so-highly-intellectual bit, chewing gum, walking weird and he had that stupid fucking name, rounded Dave. What a bozo, the guy was a real loser. Still… he did have something that she could use. He had the key to the old square, thumb box, rumoured to hold the secret of all humanity and inside it, a rotten body part, sliced from a nobleman for some unspeakable, misdeed; now blessed with an eternal remit to anyone who would so wish it. It was all strangely compelling, frighteningly dark and that was enough to put aside her feelings of contempt, ease into a skirt, spruce herself up and head off down to the library basement to meet rounded. It was Wednesday, about seven and all she could think of was getting her hands on that damn key.

Dave had chosen immortality over the heavenly scent of Hannah's body, after all he already knew the answers to everything else and he did have sex once, although that was a fair while ago, if you could call poking Laura, actually getting laid. With trembling fingers, he placed the key into the box and turned it sharply to the right. A tiny click and the lid was loose. Rounded stepped back taking a large intake of breath and waited… Nothing, no sound, no blinding lights, not even a rancid, rotting smell. He peered inside and what he saw exploded his mind, pushing him back against the basement wall. For one brief moment he knew everything, the answer to the never, ever, life, death, mortality, immortality, you name it, he knew it. He knew when it would next rain, when he would die, when everyone would die, he saw the lonely, the rich, the poor, he could feel the flames of despair, the wicked, the damned, he touched the dead, gave birth to the living, but above all he could hear the cries of frivolity at his knowing and it was this realisation that turned him dumb. In one singular, secular moment he held the weight of the universe on his shoulders and it was far too heavy a load. He crumbled, jibbering, contorted, yet still aware of a fact so terrifying, a fact so horrifyingly illuminating; the fact that he would have to do it all over, not once, not twice, but for infinity, and don't forget he had witnessed infinity too… boy was rounded fucked!

No-one ever knew what rounded saw, not even Hannah, who had found his petrified form and no-one ever found out about the key. No sir, that was tucked away, safely in her Fathers cellar. The box however, was still in place in the library basement; it sat there, waiting, with its treasure hidden and its revelation shrouded. There would be another, there always was. Perhaps one day, a strong man or woman would hold it aloft and share its power with the world. Until that time, it would remain an enigma, known only to rounded Dave, a fat kid from the slums, who so far, was the only person ever to find the answer to that universal question.

There you go, I hope I have managed to clear up that small mystery for you. A little clarity sure goes a long way! If you still have a hole in your soul, a gripe or a kind of gnawing, unrelenting necessity for even more answers, then may I suggest you follow an alternative route and indulge in some light reading, how about 'The Universe in a Nutshell' by Stephen Hawking. Take a look at the big bang and all that jazz. Me, well whenever I get low or experience a brief touch of the never, ever, I like to think of good old rounded Dave and what he saw; I love that utopian vision of eternal, unknowing repetitiveness and I will welcome my end when it is my time. Somehow I feel we will be discussing this again one day, perhaps you too may have some ideas, after all, 'What goes around, comes around, don't you think?'

Shaggy, slime-ball, he'd always been known as greasy Gaz. Probably on account of his floppy, oily hair or the acne that created an infusion of soggy, puss-fuelled pellets across his rapidly disfiguring face. Perhaps it was the slimy way he clung to people, offering praise in return for friendship, he never really knew, nor did he care or express an opinion to care. He was greasy Gaz and that was that, that was how it had always been.

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