Walkie Talkie

September 7, 2010
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WALKY TALKIE
“It’s not like you,” she said. “To act like this.”
I stayed completely still, “what?”
“I said your acting strange.”
“Oh... Nope. Just tired.” Sighing, I turned the key in the ignition and stayed completely still as the engine coughed and spluttered croakily.
“Joe, are you sure you’re alright?” I stayed silent and pressed down on the accelerator. Passing down the narrow country road, my gaze was met by the sea of green before me. The sheer emptiness, the vastness made me sick. Why had she done it? We’d been happy together and she’d just had to ruin it. The worst thing was her bloody ignorance. I knew it, Tom knew it (but he was still at home,) in fact the whole neighbourhood knew about her little affair. And now look what she’d made me do.
“You know you’ll be fine.” She soothed unsuccessfully. “Nobody will find out.”
To think that the only imperfection for miles upon miles was the little rectangle of freshly turned soil behind me made me feel utterly insignificant. I might as well have been a drop of water in the ocean. Who was I? Who cared? In the big scheme of things we are all tiny.
Looking down at the road as it was being swallowed by the car bonnet before me, I sobbed trying to stifle my long mournful wails. I was alone. I had nothing. The only thing I had ever loved was now dead. Because of me. Sniffing angrily at my little display of hysterics, I rested my head back. As the scenery remained unchanging, I stared vacantly at the dashboard, watching the petrol levels dwindling and the mile count increasing rapidly. I knew that soon I would need petrol, but I didn’t care. I had nothing left to live for.
“I heard you,” the voice from the back of the car said. “Crying, you know you don’t have to. You have the rest of your life ahead of you, nothing should hold you back.”
“I know,” I answered. “Sorry.” Wiping my eyes, I chanced a look up at the mirror.
“I told you,” she snapped. “No looking.” Bowing my head, I carried on forwards into the bleak green before me.
“You know, if you’re really that sad, you could come join me.”
“What?”
“Well it’s nicer up here. Birds, tree’s, cities ‘n’ all. And I am kinda lonely.”
I sniffed. “I’m sorry to hear that, but you know I can’t come. Tom’s at home. What would he do without either of us?”
“Oh no,” the voice laughed, “There was a fire-“
“What?” I asked.
“Tom’s up here with me.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“What there was a fire at home and Tom’s up there too?”
“Exactly, he had some mates around and they forgot to turn off the gas. When they went home and Tom turned a light on. BOOM, ‘n’ it was all over.”
“No... I don’t believe you, I won’t believe you, you’re lying.”
“No, it’s true.”
“But it can’t be. Poor boy was only fifteen.”
“And he’s missing his Dad.”
Feeling tears well up in my eyes, I leant back again. “Well that changes everything.”
“So are you coming?”
“Well if Tom’s there?”
“Yes...”
“Let him speak to me, just so I know you’re not kidding.”
“No can do, sorry. It doesn’t work that way, but I promise you that he is here with me.”
“I don’t know whether I’m ready,” I said.
“Sure you are. I’ll count you in.”
Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes. “FIVE” I pressed down on the accelerator, slowly gaining speed. ”FOUR” I put more pressure on, going faster. “THREE” Faster, “TWO” faster “ONE!” I threw the steering wheel sharply to the left and felt the whole car roll, there was an almighty CRUNCH and CRASH and all went black.

Epilogue
Somewhere along an old country road lay a mangled corpse of a car, bright flames licking the blue sky. The remains of a man lay scattered around like pieces of a jigsaw and the sting of burning rubber poisoned the air. From the ashes droned a strange, hardly audible “Tschh tschh.” The strange sound was mysteriously emanating from somewhere near the back of the car. If someone had been there to look inside the twisted, deformed hunk of metal, they might just have seen the small walky talky nestled between the back seat and the door as it “tschh tschhed” on through time. And if someone had been say one hundred miles back down the road, they may have seen the emerging form of a hand slicing through the top layer of the one rectangle of recently upturned earth, a reminder of a man who had once travelled down that road. A woman crawled out laughing and wiped the brown smears of fake blood bought from a small toy shop from her clothes and face. Hysterically laughing, she punched the air in triumph. She sat down sobbing in joyous relief and stroked like a new pet, the walky talky clutched in her hand as it “tschh tschhed” quietly into the night.





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