Okay, so I'm not so sure about this one. I'd really apprecaite hearing what you all think of it. I really restricted myself with the idea (which I love) because it meant that I had to do without a) sound, and b) dialogue. I think the story really suffers from lack of dialogue, but hey.
Plus I hate the title....
Her mouth moves rapidly, red lips and white teeth. Words are coming out but all I hear is music. I raise my eyebrows in response, prompting the woman to turn to her friend. The mouth keeps moving, and she flings her arms about, somehow not hitting anybody.
The song ends, and another one begins.
My hand grips the rail as the train comes sharply to a stop, and a carriagefull of people lean slightly in the same direction, then fall back into place. The doors open and I push past to exit the carriage. On the platform I have to manoeuvre around a group of people who have chosen the platform to conduct a meeting, for what I don’t know. I see them discussing something, animated gestures and lots of nodding and shaking of their heads. I walk on.
On my right against the wall of the station is a man playing a cello. Most people walk past without a moment’s glance, but a boy of maybe six stands and watches. I see the musician smile at the boy as I pass.
Near the bottom of the steps that exit the station is man holding his hand out, with the abstract black shape of a dog next to him. I think he is trying to ask me for money. I walk up the steps and out into the rain.
It was sunny when I caught the train, but the wind has pulled a wad of clouds, dark black at the bottom but white at the top, in front of the sun and they have started to leak. The rain is not heavy, but it will be. Removing my hands from my deep pockets I fling my hood up and stomp out into the beginnings of a puddle.
The song ends, and another one begins.
A perky young woman holding a clipboard is standing looking up at the clouds. She looks back down, her face screwed in dismay, but it lights up when she spots me. She skips towards me, smiling broadly, and her mouth opens wide in greeting. It is easy to look down at the floor and she is gone.
Ahead of me umbrellas are appearing above people’s heads as the rain gets heavier. Faces are hidden, and I plunge forward through the shifting crowd. A man, refusing to let the rain move him, holds out a Big Issue in front of me, but I walk past without a word. Something makes me look over my shoulder at him but I cannot hear what he is saying after me. Probably some sarcastic comment.
I’m coming to the marketplace now. Soon I am surrounded by stalls. I do not stop but turn my head side to side, seeing what is on each stall. Sometimes my eyes meet those of the stall owners, and their eyebrows raise and their mouths move and their arms gesture. I turn my head, to see what is on the other side, and keep walking.
The song ends, and another one begins.
At the other side of the market there is a stall selling all sorts of pasties, sausage rolls, and pies. I am hungry so I stop and point to a pasty at the front. The seller takes it and wraps it up, then says something to me. I look up as I am searching for my wallet and he says it again, then puts his hands up to his ears and makes a pulling motion. I hold up my hand and pull out my wallet, finding a ten pound note inside. He takes it from me with an exaggerated shake of his head, and holds out the change. I take it and my pasty, and I leave, scattering a group of pigeons that have gathered looking for scraps. I duck as one of them flies up and past my head. I turn back, and they return to their patch instantly.
I bite into my pasty, dropping crumbs onto the path. I step out into the road and for some reason look to my right, where a car has stopped and its occupant is shouting inside the car. I shrug my shoulders, and he opens his door and sticks his head out, still shouting. But I can’t hear him. I shrug at him again, and walk on.
The song ends, and another one begins.
Across from the marketplace there is a man with a megaphone, ignoring the rain. In front of him is a hand-painted sign that reads ‘Listen to Jesus’. His feet are rooted to the spot but the rest of his body is flailing about as he bawls into his mouthpiece. Maybe it is better that I cannot hear what he is shouting. He points directly at me as I walk past, crouching down low, his arm shaking to the tip of his finger. I escape from the street into the coffee shop.
Waiting inside is my girlfriend. As I walk over she gets up from her table and wraps her arms around my waist, kissing me. Pushing my hood off my head she grins, and tries to say something to me. I break from her embrace and shove my bag off onto the floor, and reach up to remove my earphones.
I can’t.
The song ends, and another one begins.
I pull once again, but they won’t move. I use both hands and try and pull the left one out, attempt to pry it from my ear. But it is stuck. I try the right, and it is stuck. I can’t get out. Panic hits me like scalding coffee thrown in my face, I grab for the chair but knock it to the floor. I fumble in my pocket, hitting the stop button on my iPod, hitting every button, but the music doesn’t stop. I try to pull the cord out off the player. Nothing. Taking hold of the wires in my ears I pull again… as hard as I can, but nothing. I am trapped. The music plays, but I don’t recognise it. I think it is my favourite song, but I don’t hear it. It is just noise now, burying me. My girlfriend grabs my arms, her face a horrible mess of confusion and horror and tears, and her mouth is wide open in a scream I cannot hear.
Roberto
Claudia
Mr. Villis
