'Awkward, Betrayal, I and The One'

by Rachael A Payne

should I do, play I-spy? With what? These four walls are completely blank. Nothing but thin lines of years old dried paint. Maybe I could count the lines, or the cracks in the white wooden skirting board. Maybe that in itself would be a most tedious task.

  Ah, I've been here too long. I'm going. Yes, I'm just going to get up off this chair, walk to the heavy iron door in front of me and just walk out. That’s right, I’ll just leave. Just push myself off this chair. In three, two...

  Wait. What if they come and get me next and I'm not here? They could be busy. It would be rude of me to just get up and go and for them to come and find me when I'm not here.

  No, it’s best just to wait. Just keep waiting a little longer. They’ll be here in a minute.

  I think I have been waiting here so long that I can’t remember if I remembered to turn off the stove. Do we have a stove? No, yes that’s right, mother has a stove. Silly things we think of when we have nothing else to do. Silly little things we remember when our minds have nothing else to occupy themselves with.

  Of course I won’t be able to get a lift back home now, they’ve kept me waiting so long.

  What’s on the TV tonight? Wait I'm sure I thought about this earlier. How strange, I can’t remember what day it is.

  It’s Thursday. No, no, no, it’s Wednesday. How stupid of me.

  Oops. Think I laughed out loud a little then. Did they hear me?

  No, of course not. It’s not as if they’re watching me is it?

  I think I'm starting to get a little paranoid. It’s this room and its damn blue walls with absolutely nothing on them.

  If I could have something to look at it wouldn’t be so bad. A Monet painting or something pretty. Something to give this place more colour, brighten it up a bit. Oh, what they could really do with is some magazines. A nice little coffee table with home and garden magazines, maybe even fishing magazines. And more chairs, they really need more chairs. Better chairs too, ones with cushions so that your bum doesn’t fall asleep.

  Take a deep breath but try not to make it obvious that you are annoyed. I don’t want to be rude.

  But maybe if they see that I'm getting fed up, someone might explain to me what is going on. Yes, good idea. Sit back in the chair, slouch a little and fold your arms. A little higher on the chest.

  That way when they walk past they’ll know how long I’ve been waiting. They’ll see that I'm unimpressed, and they’ll get something sorted. How could they not? It’s bad service to leave someone sat here for so long.

  Unless, unless they're testing me. Ridiculous, testing me for what?

  Yes, testing me for what?

  What would they want to test me for? I'm perfectly normal, I'm in full health. What do they think I'm going to do?

  I came here didn’t I? I’ve been sat in this room for what seems like forever, haven’t I?

  Yes, I have been sat here quite possibly all day.

  All of what day?

  All day. Is it? There's no clock in this room. I'm not wearing a watch so I can’t even tell how long it’s been.

  Well, it can’t have been that long. No one could keep someone waiting that long. Unless it’s at the airport where delays are to be expected. And you know you have to understand that it’s not their fault. Sometimes it’s bad weather, and you can’t control those things, no one can.

  We can’t control the weather, or the sea. We, all of us have no real power.

  Oh, there it was again, that little laugh out loud I did before. Oh dear. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today, I seem to be all over the place.

  What must these people think of me, sat on my own, laughing to myself. And... wait.

  No wait what is that?

  Someone’s coming, yes very quietly someone’s coming to the door. Is it? Are they?

  What are they doing? Open the door, come and get me, I'm in here. Why aren’t they opening the door?

  Shush, listen.

  They're watching me.

 

  The One

  She was the one. She was everything.

  She was the best and worst thing that could have ever happened to me. And when I think back now I know I wouldn't change a single moment, not the fear, not the running, not the excitement or the passion.

  That night, that is the one that clings so vividly in my mind. It still causes my heart to burn with love.

  Standing in that old theatre, the roof missing yet the stage still so alive, moonlight glistening and shimmering down upon our faces, lighting our frames and the outlines of her curves. It was a perfect moment, just us two.

  And she ran, barefoot along the dusty floor, no wood could be seen, only dirt and she didn't care. Flakes of the old carpet lay strewn here and there, and I watched as she weaved amongst the collapsed beams and the fallen seats. This theatre had long been forgotten.

  Further away she darted, closer to this once magnificent stage. Heavy wooden steps led to the vast performance area, she giggled as she glanced over her shoulder at me.

  I moved closer.

  Part of the large draping crimson curtain still remained, tattered and dusty, clinging on for dear life to the rusty pole that held it up. I smiled when I saw her hiding mysteriously behind it. She wanted me to find her, to go to her. And there was no doubt, I would follow her blindly.

  She danced in the middle of the stage and then the rain began. Slowly at first, heavy droplets thudded down hitting the dusty ground beneath our feet. As if in slow motion the drops caused devastation to the sandy floor, and they gained in speed, more and more of them came.

  I felt them on my face, the chill of them made my body react, shivers rose from the bottom of my spine all the way to my neck. It was refreshing, and it was cleansing and pleasurable.

  Looking up to the sky through the empty ceiling of the building, I let the rain take me as the moment took her. I began to dance, arms in the air, feet kicking in front of me, spinning in circles. And she laughed as I did, loud fits of joyful giggles. How foolish we must have looked, the two of us dancing like mad men in an old run down theatre. But I was too exhilarated to care.

  I stared up to the moonlit sky, this celestial body was so close to us, and I found myself thanking the night. I let the rain roll down my face and held my arms up above my head, to feel the precious, cold water dripping through my fingers.

  I looked back down and she was right in front of me. Drenched as she was, clothes almost see through, hair a tangled mess, sticking to her face, she was beautiful still. The cold made her skin whiter, it stood out amongst the darkness of her hair.

  Looking at her, I forgot the rain, forgot how freezing it was and ignored the fact that my breath created clouds as it interacted with the air around us. How blissful this is, I thought.

  And then she kissed me. Wet lips, we were kissing the rain. The closer she stepped, the more my heart thundered. Passion swept us away, we were giving into lust.

  A true perfect moment.

  I felt nothing but her presence, heard nothing, saw nothing but her. For as long as I live there could never be another moment such as this. The feelings are too intense to describe in any accurate terms. I know I felt love, an enigmatic pulsing of every limb in my body, my muscles quivering with excitement and nerves. I wished for this moment to never end.

  And then I heard the sirens. Wailing screeches, first as background noise but rapidly coming closer.

  The moment was gone. The feelings now became fear and I turned to face the lights that were blurred through the rain in the distance.

  My first thought was to run; we had to get away and I quickly spun around to face her. She, who was no longer there. I stood alone on that stage, the rain still hammering down, all around me was wet, and puddles gathered here and there where the floor was uneven.

  Gone, she had gone. Left me there where we had stood not minutes before. My perfect moment became washed away in the rain, just like the dust. I could not move from the spot. The noises became lou
der but I didn't look away. All the excitement was gone, replaced with confusion and pain. She was the drug to my addiction, now it had been ripped away and I was left to suffer.

  My own thoughts bewildered me. There was no sign of her, it was as if she had never existed at all.

  And where she went? I suppose I’ll never know.

  Other works by Rachael A Payne include:

  Cult

  Delcaos - Part of the Darkest Night Collection

  Darkest Night - Part of the Darkest Night Collection

  A Collection of Vampire Poems by Delcaos

  You can find out more information about Rachael A Payne on her website

  www.rachaelapayne.co.uk