Fallen Times

Written and Edited by

James McGregor

Copyright © 2019 by James McGregor
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Great smelling food made my mouth water. I kept my eyes closed for a little longer. The spices reminded me of holidays I had been on. The smell of the meat took me to barbecues we had had in the back garden when there was the rare glimpse of sun. I took one hearty breath in and as I let it out, I opened my eyes to see a table full of all the food you could imagine. It was like christmas on steroids. All laid out on a long wooden table, like the ones you see in medieval pictures. I felt like I was at the last supper — although I was in the middle, so there were some obvious differences. I sat back in my chair, and looked around the table to see all my friends and family — I hadn’t seen any of them for such a long time. It was amazing to have them all here, with me, now. I began to smile. And I could feel my eyes begin to well. Everyone was having a verbal tennis match; I couldn’t get a single word that any of them were saying. It didn’t matter though. In-between breaks I could hear the voices of my friends and that was all I needed. My stomach soon reminded me of why I was there. It wasn’t to enjoy the company of others, oh no, it was to eat all the food I could. In the middle was a large chicken, or turkey...a bird anyway; I reached out and ripped off a leg — feeling like a barbarian; I loved it. I turned it around in my hands for a moment, watching the light glisten off of the crispy skin. There was no point in waiting anymore. I brought it to my mouth and took a great big bite and immediately began to choke.

flung myself forward. My right hand around my neck and my other slapping my back — I must have looked like a mad man. A constant stream of sand flowed out of my mouth. And once it petered out, I reached in and scraped all the remnants out with my finger. It was grim. There is nothing worse than having sand in your mouth — well, there is, but it is pretty bad. I was gagging for water. My mouth was as dry as a desert. I looked around me to see if any of the bottles I had had anything left. One by one I picked them up, shook them about and poured the last drop onto my tongue; evaporating before it touched. I ransacked each and every bottle. I threw the last one down to the ground and its emptiness echoed in my ears, reminding me of how hollow it was. My head hit against the wall behind me; waking up my headache that had persisted to throb underneath.

The wind continued through the narrow alleyway, bringing the sand; coating me in a fine layer of dry dust. There was no getting away from it. It was clear that I was back where I started. No banquets or feasts where I was. No friends or family to surround me. Nothing but empty bottles of water and a mouth full of sand whenever I slept with my stupid mouth open. My fault really I guess. You would have thought I had learnt my lesson. Of course though, I hadn’t. From the market stalls, in the centre of the town, wafted the smell of exotic foods. Again my mouth began to water as I fantasied about the foods they were selling, or at least the possible meals. The smells only added to my predicament. Luckily, I could find some solace in the smells of the dirty animals and people who were walking on by. Not forgetting to mention the general stench of the city — that shouldn’t go amiss. My rumbling belly soon turned into a churning sickness. Considering my situation, I felt no pain in losing my appetite. My friends’ voices faded as the mundane mutterings from the alleyway took over. I understood nothing. Every so often the sound of a distressed animal would cut through. To top it all off, from every shop, and flat opposite me, came the tinny sound of their telly. Each one blaring out nonsensical crap to the brain starved population. The dream was truly over and all what surrounded me was a reminder of what I am missing.

The sun was high up in the sky, up over head, making sure that it hit me with every bit of heat it was able to produce. I was sweating like nobodies business— and trust me, that is an understatement. There was no point in moving from my spot since along the entire alley the sun reigned supreme. There was no shadows to hide under and there were no clouds in the sky to defend my honour. I was alone in this battle, and it was certain I was losing. Half of my clothes were laying on the floor, either underneath me or my things. The uniform that I had on had pretty much fallen apart at the seams, with a load of holes dotted about. This, you would think to be a blessing, a form of ventilation: it wasn’t. All it did was allow the sand underneath and stick to my sweaty skin. It was a pain. The winds gave me some relief, for a brief moment, however along with them came the waves of sand. Not helped by the fact that I had no water. Despite all of this, I knew all I had to do was sit and endure it all since at nighttime, when the market stalls closed up, each would pass by and drop off what they couldn’t sell. So, all I had to do was play the waiting game.

Something tapped my left leg. I looked down to see a football, that was falling apart, with some of the inner orange ball showing. I looked around to see where it had come from; a boy dressed from head to toe in white, long shirt, and a dark skull cap stood still, staring at me, stunned. His reaction made me chuckle since there was no reason for him to be as scared as he was. I picked up the ball and with all my efforts threw it back to him, trying my best to miss the people who were passing. Some jumped out of the way of the crappy leather ball, terrified. The ball rolled to his feet. Between the people he ducked and dodged, kicking the ball from one foot to the other. Everyone in the alley was a defender and they were all in his way of the goal at the end. He flicked the ball up and started to bounce it; keeping it in the air for as long as possible. People shouted at him, shot daggers from their eyes, and shook their heads as they passed. The boy carried on regardless, keeping his focus on what he was doing, content with doing his own thing.

The good times could only last so long. A man fumbled the ball as he pulled it out of the air. The boy stopped immediately and stood up straight. He turned to look up at the man who stood in front of him. The man’s eyes tightened as he shouted at the boy; his voice sliced through the noise of the city. All life in the boy’s body left him and his shoulders dropped; his head followed. The man wrapped his bony hand around his face, shaking the boy’s head as he shouted and screamed at him. With the last word splattered across the boy’s face, he threw his head down, and the ball up and out of sight. He left the boy standing, motionless, slumped on the spot, and rejoined his friends. Each patted him on the back and laughed as they continued through the alley.

My arms shook as I pushed against the coarse wall. My legs were tense and all they wanted to do was cave in on themselves and fall back to the floor. My teeth clenched, eyes closed, and beads of sweat escaped and ran down my face; burning underneath my skin. Once I was up I fell against the wall, panting, keeping my eyes closed. My body began to sway a little, and colours swirled in front of my eyes. I slowed my breath, in and out, counting the length of each breaths waiting for the reeling sensation to be over.

I opened my eyes. The world was spinning, but it was nothing that I couldn’t handle. I began to walk, keeping my hands out at my sides as I stumbled across the cobbles. Beside the boy I stopped and looked up to see if the ball was in view: it wasn’t. I looked up, and tried to remember which roof the man threw the ball onto, although, from my experience, it was never where you thought it was. I crashed against the flat wall, looking at it for a moment, trying to figure out how on Earth I was going to get up. A ledge of a couple of centimetres wide from a circular window was it, meaning it was going to be a task and a half to climb. I placed my foot onto the wall and rested it there for a moment. My fingertips gripped onto the window, giving me a nice burning stretch in my joints. I counted down and threw myself up. Both legs flailing in the air, kicking the wall, wanting to grip onto something, anything. They didn’t. I fell to the ground, a bit out of breath, with the world around me completely white. I waited for everything to regain its colour before pushing myself back up onto my feet.

Again I placed my fingertips on the edge: my foot rested on the wall. I breathed in; counted and launched myself up. As soon as I was in the air I threw my foot up and onto the window sill, pushing me up further. I reached out to grab the edge of the roof. I made it. On the other side the ball hit against the side, rolling up and down with the wind. My arms and legs were shaking as if there was an earthquake going on. The tips of my feet were beginning to slip — I kicked the window once or twice each time they did. Putting all my weight onto my shaking arms, I pulled myself up and rolled onto the roof and onto my back. I spread out like a star. I tried to gather up the energy to get onto my feet, but it was long gone. Instead, I rocked on my back like a turtle until I was on my belly. I shimmied across the roof and over to the ball. It tried to escape my grip, making me want to scream. I grabbed it with anger and wrapped my arm around it. At the edge of the roof I looked over. There was no way I was going to be able to climb down. I was for sure going to lose my footing or my legs were going to cave in. My head fell once I realised what was my only real option.

I threw the ball down, not caring if it hit anyone. Bit by bit I rolled myself off the edge; holding on for dear life. First, my left leg dropped down, dangling, throwing me off balance. Next to go was my right leg, which was close to taking me out. I managed to hang on though. Finally, I was hanging there, over the side of the building. There was not much space between me and the floor so I let go — underestimating the gap completely. When I hit the floor, my legs — at long last — caved in. My chin slammed into my knees and my jaw crashed shut. I was knocked back and bounced over to the other side of the alley. I slumped into a ball, trying to breathe; my throat grumbling with each breath. My body ached. I could feel my feet tingle; some blood ran down my arms and my head began to throb deeper. All I could do was lay on my side and try to regain some composure.

Once my breathing normalised I began to count each breath. Taking in long breaths and letting them out as slow as possible. A voice came from above me. I looked up and saw a figure all dressed in white. ‘No bother,’ I mumbled before placing my head in my hands and laying back on the floor.

I carried on focusing on myself and my pains.

’English?’ his high pitched voice pieced my ears, ‘you speak English?’ There it was again.

Using my right hand I pushed the ground away from me. I rubbed my eyes raw before opening them and trying to focus on the boy. It was all a blur still.

’Yeah, I speak English.’

He bowed. ‘Thank you for ball.’

’No problem.’

We stayed in silence for a moment. He began to roll the ball around in his hands and I tried to focus on who was actually in front of me.

’What you do here?’ He asked.

’Nothing...anymore.’

’Why you...here?’

’I am trying to earn some money.’

’What?’ he said as he crouched down, turning his head towards me; pushing me away.

’I try to get money,’

’You need money.’ He shouted in my ear. ‘What you sell?’ He reached into his pocket; I could hear the change getting shaken about.

’Nothing.’ I waited. ‘Nothing for children.’ I shouted as I waved my hand, persuading him to stop.

The jangle of the coins stopped. ‘Why no for children?’

’It just isn’t.’

He looked off into the distance and walked over to where I had been sat. He knelt down and picked up one or two of the bottles, rattling the insides.

’What in orange bo...’ A call, a song stopped him and forced him to look up to the sky. All the people in the alley stopped and began to walk towards the siren.

He knelt down and put the bottle back down. ‘I go now.’ He shouted over to me. ‘I be back to help, later, yes?’ I could feel his smile.

’Don’t worry about it.’

’No, I help.’ The football fell to the ground and he began to kick it through the sea of defenders. I crawled along the floor until I was back with my things. The alley was soon empty. There was no more chatter in the streets. All I could hear was the occasional animal in the distance and the prayer call ring through the city. I rested my head in my hands and closed my eyes making the most of the peace that I could.

I opened my eyes, shivering. The streets were completely empty and every shop was shut. Along the alley candles were lit. The moon’s glow only made it so far into the streets, creating a blue night above. Despite the cold I stared up at the night sky and lost myself for a moment. My rumbling stomach reminded me of my hunger and with that came back my thirst. By my side there were bits of food and a couple bottles of water dropped off by the some of the market venders. First though, I pulled my jacket out from underneath me and covered up. I looked at the feast of cooked meats, various vegetables and fruits. I rubbed my hands together and blew on them to warm them up. It was time to dig in and get rid of any hunger pains. I couldn’t wait to begin.

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Take Care

J.Me…