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Thursday, December 09, 2010

Senility

Tom didn’t recognise his surroundings; he stood still and held his breath. On either side of him loomed buildings. They poked into the azure sky, tall grey pencils, sunlight glinting from crystal clear panes of glass.

People in strange clothes, and half naked girls with sweaters above their waists and rings fastened into belly-buttons, moved past without a glance. A woman with purple and silver hair bumped against him. ‘Oophs sorry,’ she said and hurried on.

Tom stared at her retreating back and placed a hand on the crown of his head. He felt skin beneath his fingers and his heart leapt as he dug his nails into the hard, hot surface. ‘Where’s my hair gone.’ he looked around his feet as if the missing hair had drifted to the pavement.

A creature with a metal imbedded face stepped out of a doorway. Tom gave a small cry and shied away from the blue tattooed hand stretched towards him.

The creature opened its mouth and displayed tan teeth. ‘Ya holdin’?’

Wide-eyed, and frozen to the pavement, Tom felt his throat lock. The creature swayed from side to side on the balls of its feet, and eyes like black bugs crawled over Tom’s face.

Tom couldn’t keep his lips and chin still. They shook as tears poured down his cheeks, certain those ginger teeth were about to sink into his neck. He flapped his arms in the space between him and the creature. ‘Go away, don’t touch me,’ he moaned in a voice thin with despair.

‘Fuckin’ dobber,’ the creature growled and disappeared into the passing crowd.

‘Help, someone please help me.’

A hand grasped his arm. ‘You okay old man?’

’I wanna go home.’ Tom sank to the pavement, wrapped his arms around his knees, and buried his face in the rough fabric of his trousers.

‘Where do you live?’ said a voice above his head.

Tom tried to think, collect thoughts whirling in grey mists of his mind. ‘Don’t know,’ he whispered.

He didn’t dare raise his eyes above the pair of dark trousers and hands that caressed a black baton - afraid of what new horror he might encounter.  For a while there was only the sound of passing feet and the swish of transitory objects speeding by. Then the voice came again.

‘Hey chief, this is Donnelly. I got some old guy here. Lost and totally out of it. Whatcha want me to do with him? …. Okay I’ll bring him in.’

Tom felt a pair of strong arms lift him to his feet, and a sense of relief washed over him. He’d be all right now - his father had found him. He wondered briefly, who was the old guy the voice mentioned.

‘I’m hungry, Dad. Is supper ready?’ he said.