A Fire Story

The day had started well. But it had deteriorated fast. Simon had been given his history presentation in front of the class. As he finished some people were leaving and in the commotion John had bumped into him. It was one of those very unfortunate things where a slight push had caught Simon completely off balance. 

As he fell the folder with papers had been slipping out of his grip. He had reach to grab it but it had only propelled the folder further into the air. Meanwhile his feet were tripping over each other which caused his whole body to twist so the folder was flung open and all its contents of papers were scattered high in the air. As Simon landed hard on the floor his glasses  came off and slid across the hard vinyl floor, only stopping as the hid the wall. Then there was a brief moment of silence before the whole class room erupted into a roaring laughter. Mr. Johnson had tried hard to compose himself and calm down the class. He grabbed John by the arm and told him to be a bit more careful. But as he caught John’s playful eyes Mr. Johnson could not help snicker himself. 

The embarrassment was complete, the pain like the sting of hundreds of little needles all over his body. Simon had run off from school. Now he was sitting in the woods burning matches. It was soothing to see them light up. Setting fire to some dry twigs helped calm his nerves further. Then he remembered that there was an old abandoned car in amongst the threes. He looked in the engine compartment to see if there was anything flammable, took the fuel hose off the carburetor but it was dry. Maybe there was something in the tank. He took a long twig and pocked it into the tank, it came back wet. He put a match to it and it lit up beautifully. Then he put the twig back into tank, even before it reached the bottom the whole thing exploded and Simon was thrown off his feet again.

When he looked up the the whole car was engulfed in flames and the dry bushes and grass was catching too. Simon ran back to his bicycle and drove back to road here was a little grassy hill. From the top of the hill he watched the big plume of thick black smoke rising. Soon the firetrucks came wising by. He did not know how long he was on the hill, but it was quite dark when he finally came home. 

There was a police car outside the house. Mother had been crying and dad was very angry. “They called from the school. Where have you been. Someone saw you set fire to a car, is this true?” 

In the morning Simon and his dad went to the police station for further questioning. It was late in the afternoon before they could go. When they got home Simon was sent to his room to think about what he had don. He snug out the window and ran down to grandpa. Grandpa was good at listening. “Everybody is angry at me, as if I am not already feeling bad enough.” Grandpa look straight at him, so warm composed and yet with a distinct tint of sadness, Simon had to look away. “Well, I understand that they are all upset, but can’t they just keep it to themselves. Why do they have to keep bringing it up. Why do I have to keep hurting? All the guilt is killing me.”

Grandpa had been bent over his canvas painting, but now he cleaned the brush and dried it in a cloth before putting it down. “Your feelings are some of the best things about you Simon. You care about things. In this world there are so many people who are indifferent. They have stopped feeling anything, be it joy, love or shame. You have don something bad, so I am glad to hear that you feel guilty.” Then he put his arms around Simon.

Simon froze, he was very confused, he had been told that guilt was a bad thin. To most people you just had to mention the word ‘guilt’ and their faces would be filled with disgust. Guilt was something to be avoided. However, the way grandpa talked about it, it was something good, something human. Slowly he let his arms embrace his grandpa. “I did do something bad, I suppose that I have to apologize the?” Grandpa nodded. Simon held his grandpa and cried and it calmed his nerves.

Caught and let go

The slope of the road increased from gentle to steep half way down the hill. The old lady was walking home from the supermarket carrying her groceries, when she heard screams and bicycle bells. Three boys came racing by. As they passed she made quick steps to the side to make room and almost fell over. The boys were roaring with laughter.

As they came to the bottom of the hill, they slammed on their breaks so the tires skidded. Peter had fallen slightly behind the two others and now he was going extra fast to catch up. When he finally applied the breaks, the bicycle swerved out of control and he tumbled off, landing hard on his hands and knees. Dennis and Alex were laughing again. Peter made a big effort not to cry. “Did you see how that old woman jumped,” Alex said and started laughing again. The other boy snickered. 

Then came an awkward silence and the boys did not quite know what to do next. Alex jumped on his bicycle and signaled to the others to come along. He led them further down the hill, by little winding paths. Finally they came to the doctor’s house. They had often helped themselves to fruits and berries in the garden, but it was spring so there was nothing to eat. 

Alex grabbed a stone and flung it at the greenhouse, and they all laughed when the stone smashed one of the windows. Alex picked up another stone. Dennis joined in. Peter had also picked up a stone, but hesitated to throw it. Alex turned to him and said, “Well, come on then.”  Peter froze. He could neither throw the stone nor let it go. When Alex asked something it could be very hard not to do it. Alex was about to mock him, but now a big man was coming running towards them. The boys jumped on their bicycles. Alex and Dennis were off in a flash, but as Peter was trying to set off, the big hand grabbed the handle bar. It was the smith. “You are coming with me,” he said. The smith walked Peter to the police, and his dad picked him up at the police station.

The next day, the three boys met in school during lunch break. Alex and Dennis were anxious to hear what had happened to Peter. Peter enjoyed the attention and tried to drag it out as much as possible, though there was nothing much to say really. “So what did the police do to you? Did they lock you up?” Alex wanted to know. Peter shook his head, “No they just asked for my name and address.” “What about your parents, what did they do?”, Alex asked. Peter shook his head again, “Nothing much. The insurance is going to pay for the broken glass. I suppose nobody realy minds.”

After school, the three boys met at the school gate. Peter said, “So what are we going to do today?” They all laughed and set off on their bicycles. 

The Man in the House

There once was a man who lived in a house.

Houses in so many ways are like the people who live in them.

A house gets much of its character from the furniture that people put in them and the decorations on the walls. Not to mention the carpets... and then there are all the smells.

The man in this story had beautiful white furniture on the ground floor. The windows were big and the walls white, so everything seemed full of light. On the first floor there were three bedrooms, but two of them were empty. In the third he had his bed, a chair and then nothing else. The basement was also mostly empty, except for a few boxes of things inherited from his family. However, that was soon to change.

One day the man in the house had a splendid feast and he invited many interesting guests. Every guest brought something special: some came with flowers, other brought food, some brought decorations... but one man brought a little furry animal. The furry animal entertained all the guests. It danced on the tables and hummed a peculiar tune. All the guests laughed and clapped their hands and laughed some more. The furry creature drank the wine and ate the flowers and everyone was delighted.

When the guests went home, then man in the house did not know what to do with the furry creature, so he put it in the basement, as it was empty anyway. The furry creature seemed content in the basement. It ate the spiders and the mice. When the man in the house came home in the evening, he would invite the furry creature up into the living room and they would play. The creature did not like the light of the sun, so it preferred to stay in the basement during the day, and only come out to play after dark. Then the man in the house bought thick curtains for the windows, and painted the walls of the basement grey. That way the furry creature seemed to like it better, and this way they could play even during the day.

Day by day the man became closer and closer friends with the furry creature. Day by day the creature grew bigger and bigger. Eventually it needed bigger things to eat. Mice and spiders were not good any more, so the man in the house starting feeding it rabbits. On one occasion it ate the neighbour cat. And yet, the man in the house was just so happy to have a companion who was there for him always.The neighbour came to complain, “Have you seen my cat? What is that awful smell? Don’t you think that you should open a window?” The man in he house had not see the neighbour's cat, and he certainly was not going to open a window, as the light and the fresh air would just startle his wonderful furry creature.

The next day the man in the house moved his bed down in the living room. That way he could spend even more time with his furry creature. After he had carried his bed down, and he was going to close the door to the stairwell leading up to the first floor, he paused for a moment, and then he left it slightly open. He looked again at the furry creature. Maybe it was not healthy to spend so much time with that furry creature. Only, if felt so good.

His living room had once been full of light, and now it was dark. Yet, that was how he liked it now. He wondered, whether something that felt so good, might not be good at all. Could it be, that something that felt very good, was bad?

The man in the house then wanted to move his bed all the way down the basement. Then he could spend all his time with the furry creature. He would not see light again, but maybe it was better that way. The light just hurt his eyes anyway. He much preferred to stay in the shadow.

He looked again at the light coming down the stairwell and out through the half open door. A sliver of light which fell across the floor. In that little bit of light so many things could be seen. In that sliver of light, there was much dirt to behold. Socks and shoes, lots of dust, a half eaten rabbit and many flies. If he closed the door, the light would go away and the mess would disappear in the darkness.

His furry creature was growling from the basement. It wanted him to join it, to close out the light and be satisfied with delight. However, the man feared to give up the light and live forever in darkness. He picked up the rabbit corpse and threw it in the empty rubbish bin. The creature howled from the basement, as if it could hear what he was doing. The man then heard the furry footsteps coming up the stairs. He felt a shiver. He was afraid of the creature within his house. He closed the door to the basement, and then heard the creature howling on the other side of the door. He was instantly filled with sadness and longing and started to cry. He knew that he had to lock off the basement but it made him so sad and anxious. How was his life to have any fun or any joy? He so longed to join the creature. Instead, he opened a curtain. More light came in. He started to pick up the things on the floor and put them in their place. Then he opened another curtain, and cleaned all of the ground floor.

Travel With The Mind

Every man has his mode of transport, something to take them into the world.

Some use a donkey, a tractor or a horse. Some have a fast sports car. Others use the public transport.

However, the ones who go furthest are the ones who travel with their mind.

It takes only one thought to carry the mind around the world.

It takes only another thought to carry it far into space.

From any point it may jump to another.

Distance is no hindrance at all. Another subject or field of study only presents a minor barrier.

So it is, that such man, in his imagination, may create a universe where he himself is god and king.

In this universe he may decide to know it all, and what is not known, is merely soon to be discovered.

Then he is not unlike a rider on a fast horse who gallops over field and through forest in fast pursuit.

But then the rider should be aware of snakes, such as may startle the horse, so that it jumps and the rider falls backwards.

I Was Concerned

I felt genuinely very concerned. Those children across the street... what is going to become of them? They leave their toys on the front lawn and then the parents have to tidy up after them. How are these children ever going to learn responsibility? They do not go anywhere on their own, whether it is to sports, friends or to school - their parents drive them everywhere.

One cannot help being concerned. I know for sure that other people have the same concerns, but they say nothing. I cannot let this happen and just sit by in quiet. So naturally I told their mother. She was very nice, listened quietly and nodded. She would do something about it.

However, the second time that I confronted her, she became quite rude. She asked me again and again if I really thought it was my business. I told her calmly that I was just concerned and I just wanted here children to do well in life. I mean, you do not want children to grow up to spend the rest of their lives on public welfare. At this point she became particularly unpleasant and used several very bad words in a high pitch voice. I think she does not care about her children at all.

On My Street

From my little house you cannot see the whole street, but you can see quite a bit. It is certainly enough to notice what is going on in people’s lives.

It is enough to see the milk float going in and out, and to see some of the stops. You do not have to be able to see it stopping at every house.

The same with the postman, and all the delivery men that are coming these days. I do not have internet. I would not know how to use a computer, but I saw them install those extra wires. I have a good feeling that I know where all those young people are spending their time: it is not cleaning the gutters, weeding the garden nor in the couples bed. No! They are “surfing” on the internet. There on the internet, they can find that little delightful thing that just the day before they did not know they needed, but today they find, and with mouths open wide in amazement, and they cannot live without it. That is the reason why all those delivery men are coming.

When they have unwrapped that thing, drunk the milk, and all the other substances that they drink, then all the wrappers and bottles and other containers end up on the sidewalk for collection. I am old enough (not that you need to be that old) to remember a time when normal family could easily fit a week's worth of rubbish in a regular small bin. Now, it spills all over in plain view of everyone. No, you do not need to look around much to notice what is going on.

If life is a dreadful drag, then at least it makes the day go by faster to notice that the middle-aged couple down the street are having an extra go at drowning their sorrows. That man down in number 22, who got divorced last year, he must be seeing some woman for he has started ordering milk again. He also has a bit more bounce in his step, despite the fact that he has put on another half stone. It is a wonder that any woman could find him attractive. I wonder how long it will last this time. People fall in love, they fool themselves with some altruistic fairy tale, and for some time they say that they are happy. Eventually however, they all seem to have some realization of what it is that they are doing to each other. Then they either get divorced, which is probably the mots reasonable thing to do in the situation, or they go with the other option, and keep making life more and more miserable for each other.

The young couple right next to him must be expecting their first child. Not that she is showing yet, but now they are getting an extra bottle of milk. Women seem to get extra thirsty for milk when they are pregnant. Maybe it is because they have to substitute for the fluid that they usually get in the form of white wine. Or maybe the husband is chucking it down in some strange psychological show of sympathy for his laboring spouse. People do strange things.

The old couple right at the end of the road are the strangest of all. They have been married forever, but they are still smiling. I have suspected that they must be senile, but she still manages to send birthday cards to relatives and other people on the right dates throughout they year. He manages to walk the dog at precisely 8 am in the morning. They also still receive a daily newspaper, all of which seems to rule out dementia. I simply cannot quite figure it out. If they are drinking to make themselves so happy, then they would not have become this old and still managed to be so fit. Also there are hardly any alcohol bottles in their rubbish. They could be burrying the bottles in the garden, or maybe he is brewing it himself, though neither seems very likely. Maybe they have some other drug.

Every now and then all their children and grandchildren come over, and it is not just for Christmas: Easter and birthdays, too. She always has that man haul lots of food home which she then prepares for days, before the whole circus arrives. They must be perverse people of some strange sort, as they seem to take delight in all of life’s painful hassle. I do admit that lots of people do that. Yet sooner or later, surely most people figure out what a trap they have set themselves in, having to care for, and provide for people who most likely will never pay them back. I wonder why these people just never seem to learn or get any wiser: they just keep giving.