This post is the first of four instalments for the story 'One Guy's Dystopia In A Seemingly Peaceful World'.
Dean felt the cold gravel pressed against his cheek. Opening his eyes, he pushed the ground away from his body, lifting himself to his knees. Deans mind whirled. His body swayed. The alley was dark but for the opening to his right that was flooded by a blinding streetlight. Dean took a deep breathe. Streetlights meant roads. Roads meant people. People meant a brief moment of safety before She returned.
He pressed his hand against the chill of the brickwork to his left. Shifting weight from left hand to right foot, Dean brought himself to one knee. With another deep breathe, he lifted to a stand. Gravel rolled from his cheekbone, as the wind caught the warm flux leaking from his eyebrow. No time to worry about that. He began toward the light. White hot pain shot through his Achilles with each stride of his left foot. No time to worry about that.
The streetlights were further burning his retinas with every step. As he inched closer, the tear of car tyres on wet Tarmac filled the night air. Dean came to the end of the alley, shot glances left, right, and one over his shoulder, before coming to rest against a shop wall parallel to the road. He reached with his hand toward his coat pocket, but the haze filling his mind made the unfastening of the button seem cryptic. Eventually it gave, and in dug his hand searching for the cold of his mobile. Got it. In his hurry, it was unlocked before it had left the warmth of his pocket, and already in his contacts. The screen blurred as he scrolled through the names, stopping at 'M'.
Phone pressed against his ear, Dean took this chance to take in the streets activity. People filtered in and out of shops, laughing and joking, last minute Christmas gifts and clutch purses in hand.
"You have reached the voicemail service for-", Deans dejected head fell back against the wall, wanting to avoid the monotony of the automated voice.
"Hi mom, it's only me.... I won't be home for Mass tonight, but I'll be there in the morning". He did his best to sound breezy, but he wasn't so sure. He didn't want her to worry. He hated it when she worried.
"See you", and with that he clicked end call, and slid the phone back into his pocket.
Not sure which way to turn, he headed left, where a young family had just exited a toy shop. He limped his way down the street, doing his utmost to ignore the pain. Every few steps he shot a glance over his right shoulder, praying she wouldn't be there. He beheld the black canvas of night overhead with his mind on his phone call. Mom was usually in bed exhausted before the light had left the sky. Through pursed lips Dean prayed that was the case. And smiled at the thought of mom.
The feeling of nostalgia deserted him as a figure............
Writers' Relay 1 | Post 1
Writer: Lewis Bates
Profile: Our first post for our first writers' relay comes from our very own Lewis Bates. Lewis is one of the Managing Directors at Fourth Wall and a talented actor, writer and director. Notable roles include Marc Anthony in 'Anythony and Cleopatra', Ariel in 'The Tempest', King Henry V in 'Henry V', Tybalt in 'Romeo and Juliet' as well as Judd in 'Bouncers'. As well as working at Fourth Wall, he is part of a touring theatre company called The Base Tikes and is a qualified personal trainer!
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