A little different to my usual today. This is a character study piece for a character that I'm currently thinking about it in my head for a LRP that is due next year. He is a member of a Goblin Court of the Dawn, who work to bring and restore hope to people. Of course, it was raining when Simon left his office building – the perfect ending to another awful day. Raining hard enough that the water that missed you on its way down had a chance to get you again when it bounced off the ground. Simon opened his umbrella, but the wind was blowing enough that it wasn’t particularly helping.
He walked down the dark and quiet streets – nobody with any sense was out in such weather unless they had to be – and even those people who were outside ignored each other. His phone buzzed in his pocket but he ignored it, already knowing that it would be Emily asking where he was. She wouldn’t blame him for his lateness – she would understand that he had to work late at the moment, but that wouldn’t stop the sadness in her voice. He couldn’t listen to that sadness again. Thoroughly drenched, Simon reached the bus stop, only to see the 102 continue along without stopping. He nodded to himself, unsurprised at the twists that life threw at him. According to the board, the next bus was due in half an hour – half an hour would see him most of the way home, but even wetter. The two paths tantalised him with the need to make a decision – neither going nor waiting seemed appealing, and so he sat on the bench, apathy winning over activity. A few minutes passed – Simon didn’t really notice them. Nor did he think about anything in particular. He didn’t pull out his phone to pass the time – there were only so many times you could scroll through social media and see how well all of your friends were doing before it became even more depressing than not knowing. “Hey! You need a ride?” Simon looked up, seeing a taxi that had pulled up at the bus stop. It took a few moments, and a need for the driver to repeat his question, before Simon realised that it was being addressed at him. “No thanks,” Simon said, shaking his head. “The bus will be here soon – I can wait.” He was about to go back to looking down at the ground, but the driver’s eyes caught him and he couldn’t help but to meet that gaze. They sparkled, though that might have just been the rain, and they seemed old – so very old. Simon took a moment to actually look at the driver – fairly non-descript white man in his early-to-middle years, but those eyes seemed ancient, with a depth of experience that you could lose yourself in. “Come on,” the driver said, “get in. My treat – it’s not like there’s all that many paying fares around right now.” Simon started to shake his head but then thought again. Why not? If the world was going to send him an actual act of kindness, why not take advantage of it. There were risks – there are always risks when you get into a car with a stranger – but, whilst he recognised that, they didn’t seem important or relevant at that moment. He climbed into the back seat. “Sorry about the damp,” he said as he sat down. The driver laughed. “Don’t worry about it – they’ll dry. Where to?” “You know the Cattle Market?” Simon asked, pulling out a handkerchief and trying, in vain, to dry his face. “Pub out on Rosehill?” the driver asked. “That’s the one,” Simon replied. The driver put the car into gear and set off. “No problem,” he said, tapping buttons on the taxi’s clock, turning it off. For a minute or so, they drove quietly, with only the rain and the faint music of the radio to break the silence. The driver was paying attention to the road, but Simon noticed that he kept looking in the rear-view mirror, not to check out the traffic behind him, but to look at his passenger. Their eyes met again, aided by the reflective glass. “Rough day?” asked the driver. Simon snorted. “Who are you, my bartender?” The driver smiled at him. “Only at weekends. Habits die hard though. You just getting out of work?” Simon nodded. “Yeah. Again. Feels like I haven’t been home before ten for weeks.” “That’s rough,” replied the driver. “Big project? Deadline?” Simon shook his head. “No – nothing like that. People keep leaving, and it takes so long to replace them that everybody’s having to work harder. You know, the work doesn’t go away just because half of the staff does.” “Except for HR, I suppose.” The driver looked back, catching Simon’s eye again. Simon laughed, despite himself. “Yeah, I suppose.” “So, if everybody else is leaving, why are you still there?” “It’s not like I can just leave,” Simon answered. “You know how it is – you’re holding down two jobs. Bills to pay. We’re saving for a house, and we want to get married. All these things are expensive.” The driver smiled back at him. “Ah – so there’s someone waiting at home for you, at least?” Simon nodded. “Emily.” “You known her long?” The smile crept back onto Simon’s face. “Five years. Been together for three of them.” “And how long engaged?” The smile faded. “Well, we’re not yet. I haven’t asked her. I didn’t feel like it was right before I was successful enough to know we’d be secure.” The driver actually leaned back to look straight at Simon and the intensity of his eyes without the mirror in between them was hard to resist – Simon found himself meeting that gaze. “Man,” the driver responded. “I mean you no offence, but that is some outdated, patriarchy-serving, bullshit.” “What?” Simon was shocked at the driver’s words. “Tell me,” the driver continued, without turning back to look at the road. “Does Emily work as well?” Simon nodded, “Yes.” “And the work you’re doing – is it work you love, or just work to get the money for those oh so 1950s intentions of yours?” “I hate my job. The high ups are completely out of touch, the hours are killing me…” “Have you talked to Emily about this? Does she know you’re unhappy?” “Well… no…” “Would you want her to be unhappy?” “Well… no…” Somehow, the driver was managing to steer around traffic whilst still looking back, directly into Simon’s eyes. “Then, my friend, perhaps it’s time to talk to her. A house won’t make you happy. A marriage might, but it can be done cheap if you need it to be. What makes you happy?” Simon shook his head, tears entering his eyes, though he still couldn’t break the driver’s gaze. “I’m not sure. Emily does…” The driver stopped the car. “Here we are – Cattle Market.” He still hadn’t looked back at the road. “But if I might say one more thing before you get out, this isn’t where you should be. You should be at home, talking to Emily. She needs to know how you feel. She probably already does but doesn’t think she can talk to you about it until you mention it first. “You need to remember who you are. What do you enjoy? If you’ve lost everything you enjoy, what did you used to enjoy. Don’t just work for the sake of working, or the sake of the money – do something you love. You don’t have to make a difference to the world – but it will make a difference to you, and to Emily. “She’s working, and you’ve got savings. Find something else. Re-train. Go back to school. You’ve become lost in the means, to the point where you’ve forgotten about the point.” Simon sat in the back of the car, only able to break the driver’s look when the other man turned his eyes back to the windscreen. The tears were flowing completely. The man was right – and he realised why he didn’t want to listen to Emily’s pained voice again. He was worried that each time he did, it would be the last time, because she would say enough is enough. He checked his phone. Five missed calls from her. Had he really started to ignore her that much? “You can fix this,” said the driver without turning round. “It’s never too late for honesty, and for hope.” Simon nodded to himself, using the sodden handkerchief to dry his eyes. “Ok. Can you take me home – 124 Sycamore?” The driver turned round again, handing him a business card. “Of course.” As he drove away again Simon looked at the card. On one side was a lit candle, and on the other was a telephone number. He put it in his pocket and started to work out what to say when he got home.
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Flash FictionSome shorter fiction, usually based on some kind of challenge. Archives
October 2021
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