Literature

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

'The Perfect Christmas'

Christmas lights twinkle like stardust in the background, sleet covers the leafy path and the hum of suburban traffic grows ever faint. Most people have long since departed, following their tails to the warmth of welcoming fires and hot mugs of steaming cocoa. Home to their loved ones, friends and family, perhaps even to their wife beaters, abusers or alcoholic partners. It all made perfect sense to me; you see I am nothing, a nobody, a Collington street-bum. I used to be someone, but that was a very long time ago. Life for me now is Drayton Cemetery, hiding out in an old abandoned crypt. I does me fine and I guess I have no real grounds for complaint, after all I have Daisy, my companion for the last two winters. I think she loves me, although I cannot really be certain. She has some ways that are strange even to myself. She suffers from schizophrenia which often brings upon bouts of psychosis. I tend to ignore most of her traits, leaving her to tend to the demons in her own way, while I attend to my drink. This usually works the best. The pair of us live amongst the hapless and seek solace each evening in the cover of our own darkness. Tonight was no different from any other night, except for one thing, the long black limousine, parked on the corner of Deverant Drive. I had never seen that particular vehicle there before and I did not usually miss much. A sour face was smoking through the shadowy window. Earlier, there had been some shouting, raised voices and a squeal, not so abnormal for this part of town, however the real mystery was the long legged red-head. She was very reminiscent of Vera Crawford, the actress, oozing glamour and sophistication. The strange and unsettling thing was that she was walking my way.

I often had the same dream. I would be running very fast across rolling fields. Not much attention would ever be paid to the fine details or in fact my immediate surroundings, but I was always aware of the tiger, patrolling just out of reach, past the perimeter fence that kept me in and it out. Even with the barrier, there was always the unrelenting fear of capture and being ripped to pieces. It would build and build, until finally I would feel the hot, meaty breath of the beasts jaws as they clamped around my head. I would look up into the shiny eyes trying to gauge its next move, always reliving that one moment before everything went black and I would wake up sweating for my life. In those days, I was always out, partying, living the high-life. I had a constant stream of girlfriends and pot loads of money to ply them with. My life was fruitful, I had everything I had ever dreamt of and then I met Cara.

Daisy was out cold. What with the drink and the drugs, she was in a better place now and I eased her head onto the hastily shaped, linen pillow. I pulled the old rug over her and looked up at the woman. She stood there staring, through dark shades, her breath clouding the air. For a brief moment, I thought I saw something that resembled compassion and then it was gone. A scorn broke across her face, which ruined the beautiful, smooth creamy, angelic look.
''Hello mister'', she said.
I tried to speak, but the words caught in the back of my throat, stuttering out in a stream of irrational notes. They made no sense to me, so how could they possibly affect such a nefarious vision.
''Here, take a drink''. I sipped the Burbon. The dark warm liquid used to pacify my soul, but it had not worked entirely right for such a long time, however I did manage to find my voice at last.
''Hi'', I croaked.
''My, we are in a bad way! What is your name old man?''
''Old man'', I thought. I must only be in my thirties, wasn't I? I tried to remember, but everything was vague. The wind blew in my face and I felt its piercing venom for once.
''Red'', I said. ''My name's Red.''
''What kind of silly name is that for an old man, eh?''
''Red'', I repeated.
''Ok, Red it is then. Now take a look at this will you Red.''
The woman handed me a small, faded photograph and I struggled to grip its thin form with my cold, gloved hands.
''Have you ever seen that girl?'' she enquired.
I spun the picture round as I could not make out the whole face and then I beheld its eclectic memories.

The first time that I saw you must have been sometime in October or maybe November. From here, the next memory I have was walking along a tree covered street and stopping at a run-down house. I remember pausing momentarily before lifting aside a rusty iron gate and knocking at your door. After that, it is all a bit of a blur, just lots of fragments, distorted images. I remember the place being a complete mess, with pots and pans everywhere, dirty sideboards, vegetable cuttings laying rancid and all the pots of coffee. I had never seen so many pots. There were the tinctures, jars of assorted medicinal or brewing potions as you so correctly informed me. There was a large picture of Jim Morrison hanging over the toilet and cd's by Henrix and Pink Floyd littering the hall. I remember having sex, doggy-style over the sofa, I don't think I wore a condom. I can visualise the garden, with its overgrown shrubbery, hanging, broken branches and abandoned glade. You told me that you may bury me here, if I misbehaved. I remember laughing. I don't remember us both laughing that much. Then I remember the argument, our bust up in class. I think we had sex on the bus once more, just before we broke up, you had those little knickers on with the little strings that tied at the side. They were so lovely. I remember looking in the large angled mirror, trying to see if the driver was watching. That's about it really and then I never saw you ever again.

I must have passed out, rather quickly judging by the large painful lump on my forehead and the attention from all the other people.
''Hello again Red.''
It was the same weird woman, with the same magnificent complexion and soft voice. She was still haunting me.
I turned to face her eyes, now that she had removed her glasses. She was divine, so unbelievably perfect. I fell in love, in that one instant. Daisy was coughing, a sporadic chiselling sound. It grated me, I wish I could shut her up. Then the heavenly apparition bent down and wiped my brow, gently kissing my forehead in the process. I watched as her eyes lit up. I sensed the moment. My heart thumped in my throat and I felt sick. Her lips eased apart and it was if time stopped still as finally she eased my suffering by whispering, ''hello daddy, its time to come home.''

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