Okay, so this was an assignment I wrote about a year ago when I was studying dramatic monologues, especially 'Bed Among the Lentils' by Alan Bennett.
It sort of works for Charlie and Bella, if Renee had left them while Bella was a teenager. It is written when Bella is older, and has left home. But this is based upon my dad. It's a little bit dramatised, obviously.
And yes, I know its set in England instead, but I didn't want to change it. I suppose I could've edited it, but I'm too lazy :)
This never actually got handed in, never read by anyone apart from myself.
Time for a change!
And I still don't own Twilight.
*
I can't believe that Dad has lived here for two years and still has removal boxes dotted around the house. I have one of those plastic crates under my bed, it's full of photo albums. Windows to the past. Looking at them seems like another world, but in reality it's very close.
"Take the dog out for a walk, he's getting hyperactive." These words came out of my father's mouth at least once a day, in the same monotonous voice.
It's always a battle to clip the lead on my over-excited puppy, dragging him out of the back door and into the street. I always end up doing the exact same walk, day in day out. Through the maze of Barratt homes, leading to a street of park view terraces. It's all familiar to me: the shady trees lining the street, the tall Victorian houses looming over and the absence of traffic in a busy area of town. It isn't just familiar, it's my past.
Number four. A gateway to my former life. Days spent running through the house playing hide and seek. It's one of those houses with endless places to hide. Who needs television when you have hide and seek? And all those parties we had, just a distant memory. Now all I see when I look into the windows are strangers staring back at me. The whole scene always seems grey compared to the technicolour of my youth. Even the park has lost its appeal. Wilted flowers, murky ponds and leafless trees are all that greet me when I trespass its gates. Everything's changed.
How could my father do this to himself? Leave paradise for a three-bed-semi? His favourite comment at the moment is "Relationships are just hard, love"
I head to the sea after my old street. When I let the dog off his lead and he always bounds into the sea. He's totally oblivious to what's around him. Sometimes I wish I was the same. All you can see on the beach is the grey sky, the grey water. All you can feel is the harsh winds through your hair and the sea spray hitting you as it crashes against the rocks.
The dog always seems proud of himself, soaking wet, paws coated in sand. You wouldn't catch me frolicking in the North Sea. I returned home to find my father in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette. But it isn't the father I know, it is someone else's. I am in an alien kitchen, and stood before me is a lonely old alien. This isn't the same as the man in the photographs under my bed.
"Where did you take him?"
"The beach"
"Which way did you go?"
"Through the park"
"Did you go past..." I can see the memories in his eyes. A packed suitcase, a woman getting into a taxi. Haunting his mind. I see this expression every time my suitcases are packed to go home. I can leave any time I want. But can he?
*
Well that was depressing, very different to my usual work.
I know it's very short, but it was meant to be around 500 words.
I've always wanted to know what people think of this, to see if I can write things other than romance or humour.
A review would be nice, an acknowledgement of my work :)
Lemon Cheese x
