Roadkill by Jonathan Broughton

Author:Jonathan Broughton
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Publisher: Jonathan Broughton
Published: 2011-12-01T04:30:00+00:00

The Dreamcatcher

The ‘crack’ of hard clay as it smashes onto concrete jumps him awake.

Stephen stares through bleary eyes as his curtains ripple in the wind against the draughty window, and slowly, familiarity replaces fear. Flower pots from that mad woman’s balcony upstairs; blown off in the gale, that’s all, and he lies down, turns over and slips back into sleep.

Next morning, after breakfast, in the small yard outside his kitchen door, he sweeps up the broken bits of terracotta and throws them into a bin bag. The plants, bedraggled by the fall, he piles into a heap, and throws over the wall that borders the wasteland of the enclosed garden

‘Oh, I could have saved some of them Stephen,’ Adele’s voice calls down to him, and his heart sinks.

‘They’d had it Miss Fison.’ He looks up, and shrugs. ‘Sorry. Their roots were exposed.’

She is leaning out of her window, one hand clutching the amber stone around her neck, the other holding onto the sill.

‘Oh shame.’

She doesn’t believe him, but it’s too late now.

‘My pretty red chrysanthemums,’ she wails. ‘And the cyclamen too, what a pity, and the forget-me-nots. It’s tragic.’

‘Sorry.’ Daft cow. She’s upset, which is good; he likes baiting her because she’s mad. ‘You can always buy some more.’

‘It’s so sad. They’re my friends.’

Bloody bonkers! Can he make her cry? That’s always good for a laugh. ‘Well I’m not digging a grave for them, and if they were that old they were going to die anyway.’

Her knuckles whiten as she squeezes the amber stone, and her other hand goes to her mouth; any second now, and on with the waterworks.

Then her hand shoots out as she points to some spot beyond the wall, and the amber stone gyrates under her neck.

‘Stephen, my love present. I can see it. Oh no, I must have it back.’

‘What?’

‘In the grass. Please fetch it for me.’

Love present? One of the plants? ‘Like I said Miss Fison, they’re busted, sorry.’

‘No, no. I can see it. Look, there in the grass. Oh, I mustn’t lose it. I can’t live without it.

He snorts. Can’t live without a flower; crazy talk from a crazy woman, time for the Crazy Home.

‘Ah shame.’ It’s time he went to work. ‘Too late, they’re stuffed.’

‘No Stephen, it’s not the plants. It’s my Dreamcatcher. It will only take a moment. I can see it from here. I can guide you to it.’

‘Your what?’

‘My Dreamcatcher, it’s brown and red. It’s easy to see.’

‘I’m going to be late.’ He directs his anger into the broom.

‘Stephen?’

‘What?’

‘Do you see it, in the grass? Fetch it for me. I mustn’t lose it.’

‘I’ve really got to go to work now.’ Of course he can’t bloody see it, there’s a seven foot wall in the way.

‘It will only take a moment.’

‘I’m going to be late.’ Anger raises his voice to a shout.

‘Oh please Stephen. The wind will blow it away. I can’t bear to be without it.’

‘After work.’ Bugger! His shaved neck stings as the collar digs into the tender skin and his cheeks prickle as he flushes.

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