The Actor

The curtain fell at the Bloomsbury Theatre, located in the heart of London’s West End. Applause rings out from all quarters of the arena, Sean Eve stands majestically at the foot of the stage and bows toward the standing ovations. As the intense driven sound of a thousand hand claps echoes through the inner most core of this old theatre, he exits the stage for the last time, a quick glance back at the audience on his way out and the enigmatic Sean Eve was gone.

The Player had just finished it’s gruelling extended by popular demand six month run at Bloomsbury. Tickets were hard to come by such was his popularity. Described by the art and theatre critics as ‘astounding’ and ‘Eve is simply incredible’.

Sean sat in his dressing room, he gazed into his dressing mirror, a glass of scotch lie on the side next to his mobile phone, it was untouched, he would always pour the liquor into the glass before going on stage, but never drank it. The Beatles ‘Hard day’s night’ play in the background, listening intently to the words, he still didn’t know them even after all these years. He thought about the first performance he ever did on stage in the 70’s at a small venue in South London, the play was called Beat in Time, Eve still remembered his lines word for word. Sean sat and pondered his performance for a while, before grabbing his bag and leaving the theatre alone through a basement door to escape the fans that lay desperately in wait to besiege him upon first sight.

There was a knock at his small dressing room door, and Sean was catapulted back to reality, and this reality couldn’t be further from his reminiscent thoughts he had just been having. He picked up the glass of scotch and gulped it back in one go. There was a time when he wouldn’t have done that, but then this wasn’t the Bloomsbury theatre anymore, it wasn’t even London. It was the Christmas panto run of Babes in the Wood, the venue The Tower Theatre in Folkestone, Kent.

The actor dragging his body from a scruffy looking wooden chair, went to answer the door. It was the five minute call. Sean nodded and slouched back in his chair again. He would soon grace the stage for the final time before Christmas as The Sherriff of Nottingham. It was all he could get right now. Tickets were easy to come by, starting price was £8. The Tower Theatre was a former church, a modest arena that seated 300 at most, but struggled to do so most nights.

It was a far cry from Sean Eve’s once glittering hey day, he had at one time commanded the stage in London’s west end with such refreshing vigour. He started out on stage in the 70’s as a young man with boyish good looks and a natural acting talent. The man was always destined for stardom it seemed. Even as a young boy at school he excelled in drama and the arts and liked being the centre of attention.

His parents always supported his love of performing, most parents at the time were not so encouraging, pushing their children headlong into far more practical career choices, such as medicine or accounting.

Sean made the most of his parents backing and attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. He cut his teeth treading the boards in the capital, performing at various theatre’s before finally working his way to the glorious west end.

In the late 1970’s Eve, already catching the eye of talent seeking executives, was offered the chance to audition for a brand new detective series starting on the BBC. After impressing the panel, he was given the lead role as Jack Saunders, a slick black haired DCI in Watch Tower, a show that would go on to be a ratings success and would make Sean Eve a household name throughout the UK. Appearing each week in his trade mark cream white suit and tie accompanied always with a black shirt, and a killer smile that women would die for. The show ran for the best part of Six years, and by the time it finished, the name Sean Eve had been firmly cemented in the hearts and minds of the great British viewing public. He’d made it to the big time.

He met his wife Debbie Rowe on an episode of Watch Tower, they married soon after in the 80’s and had two daughters together. On the back of Watch Tower Sean was offered plenty of lucrative film and TV work, and for a while at least, seemed never to be off our screens.

Sean trudged off stage at the Tower theatre and slowly walked back to his small dark and dank dressing room. He was wide eyed, suspicious as if expecting a massive coronary at any time. Eve couldn’t bare to face the mirror, such was the depressed morose expression that would greet him. Sighing quietly he finished off the bottle of Scotch, and walked out of the theatre. There was no group of fans laying in wait for him, not tonight, not even one.

As he walked the cold December streets of Folkestone, both hands tucked tightly away in his trouser pockets, Sean was deep in thought, grimly bracing the icy air, armed with only a thin layer of clothes to attack the freezing elements. A small torn black leather jacket drape over him lazily, not quite done up to the top exposing his neck to the biting conditions.

He thought back to the golden days, when he was the BBC’s most prized asset, topping the Christmas day viewing figures, year after year. He was unstoppable. He had been unstoppable.

People rarely recognized this once unforgettable face that had adorned TV set’s up and down the land. The drinking had well and truly taken it’s toll on him, the once pretty young face, sparkling out from the stage, lighting up a thousand venues, like the brightest of stars, was now covered cruelly in pot holes, with wrinkles imprinted upon his forehead, darting out and crudely encircling the whole of his face. His eyes red and blood shot, he wiped away a tear as he fought against the cold night.

Sean often wondered what forgiveness would feel like. He dreamt about it everyday, he cried when he felt it’s warm and peaceful sensation giving him a second chance in life. He longed for this so much that it hurt him to even embrace the thought for just a moment, a mere second of this idea filling up his mind would cause him so much pain. He’d seen others comforted after they’d fallen, picked up and dusted down, served back to the public, placed back upon the pedestal and repackaged as if a brand new being had emerged. He now thought this special privilege to be reserved only for others and a chance never to be afforded to him.

He opened the door to his ground floor flat, lighting up the hallway, balancing with one hand perched upon the door, the other swiped the light switch. He shuffled through to the small living room, looking out beyond the large window it came with a perfect view of the sea front. Even at night, specs of light shone on and off though the discoloured net curtains. The sea shimmered seductively as if trying to entice all into her realm, like a mistress beckoning to her lover tantalisingly in the cool midnight breeze.

Sean knew all about mistresses, with success always comes temptation. The girls that would hang around backstage of theatres, or events and wait around the TV studios, would nearly all find their way into his bed. He couldn’t stop, he wanted to, he told himself every time that she would be the last, and so would the next one.

A year long affair with a co star was the final straw for his wife, after hearing whispers of his sordid meetings through colleagues and friends alike, she then suffered the indignity of a tabloid front page exposé on her husbands short comings. Sean was greeted by scores of paparazzi and blood thirsty reporters instead of his wife and kids, who had now left his side, leaving him to face this damaging media circus alone.

After his period of reflection had finished, the drinking didn’t. The work soon dried up, and the man who was at one time constantly inundated with scripts and offers for work, wasn’t getting any at all. He was like a boil that had risen and popped spilling it’s poison out all over his family and the media world. Turning up for work half cut and dishevelled led to arguments with producers and co stars, directors wanted nothing more to do with him. The news was out that Sean Eve was finished, or would have been if anyone had remembered him. Despite the public melt down, he always remembered his lines. He never forgot a scene, his memory would lock that piece of information away and feed it through to him as he executed his part to perfection. It was a tragedy some thought, when they recalled, that a man with such talent could go to pieces in quite such a way.

Sean would still see his kids occasionally, but it was the scripts that he missed. He knew deep inside that it was the fame and celebrity that he missed the most, he just couldn’t help it. Desperately yearning to taste stardom again, he would sometimes convince himself it could happen again, as he look deep inside another bottle. He wanted the girls once more. Sometimes he thought about them, the ones he could remember, never their names. The attention was addictive, and he couldn’t get it back or replace it. He read about the young kids of today who chase after fame as if it were the be all and end all of life itself, and he understood them completely. He once had it all, and would of willingly done anything to get it back, even for just one day.

Walking into his bedroom, with a glass of whiskey in one unsteady hand, Sean gets undressed. Hurrying over to a large vanished wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room, he takes out some clothes, spilling some of his drink in his haste he begins to dress. Spread out across the room and covering nearly the whole of his single bed are piles upon piles of script pages. These were the entire works for every single Watch Tower episode ever shot. He had the script memorized in his head, he was going over the words, the grubby looking white suit was back on and he was right back in the early 80’s again. The smile had returned to his worn out face, and the ill fitting clothes, in his mind made him that character again. He began to sing the theme tune with real purpose, he was ready for the cameras to role and the director to say places please and ‘action’. Eve adjusted himself in the mirror, and slicked back his now straw grey hair. Jack Saunders was back.

1,988 Words

END

S. HOVERY

The Forest

Evan packed a small bag for the weekend and boarded a coach from London, bound for the West Country. He had come to a major cross roads in his career, and felt that the refreshing country air would soothe his jaded mind. The fast pace and pollution of London had certainly taken it's toll on him, and this was his first outing away from the capital for over a year.

As he sat at the back of the coach, he rest his head gently against the back of the seat and drifted away, as he did so, he thought to himself about how good it felt to leave the over crowded city behind him, if only for a few days. He reflected upon how emotionally cold and empty London can make you feel, this despite the millions of people each day who surround you almost everywhere. Evan slept until he arrived at his hotel.

It was now early afternoon, and deciding to make the most of his weekend of freedom, he wasted no time in leaving the hotel. Dropping his bag onto the floor, it made hardly any sound as it hit the soft luxurious red carpet, of his hotel room. Inspecting the bathroom, Evan gazed at the modern design. Evan gave an approving nod to himself as he gazed up at the big power shower unit standing in the corner of the Arctic white room.

Gulping down a small glass of water, Evan grabbed his door pass from the side table, looking back into the room, he gently closed the door behind him and made for the lift. On his way out, he stopped off at the hotel reception to get a map of the local area. Evan had never been to this part of the world before, but a close friend had repeatedly recommended the location to him, to help him clear his head and decide on the future.

Studying the map in some detail, Evan left the hotel, and looked around, noticing that the area was almost completely deserted. He still didn't feel as alone as he did in London.

Glancing at the map again, and rotating it slightly to his left he looked on once more, with that he and set off down the long and picturesque road, he was making his way to the forest.

The Forest was only a short distance from Evan's hotel, a large forest which took up almost half a page of his fold up map of the town. Along the way Evan encountered few cars, and even less people, he passed by only a handful of walkers, some with dogs, others with small children. As he walked the route slowly, the wind seemed to caresses his ears and whisper to him softly, before gliding away it would gently run through his long black hair, forcing it to part his head and blow around aimlessly, until he ran his hand through it to settle it down once more.

Evan had finally reached the forest, he looked over at the entrance on the other side of the road. Beside him throughout the journey had been a fenced off section of woods, he waited patiently for a tractor to slowly pass down the road, and entered the forest.

To the eye, the forest looked fairly straight forward. Huge bushy trees on either side, the air whistling around the branches, as the leaves gently fall to the ground. In the middle was a long dirt track, it went on for as far as Evan could see into the distance. As he looked ahead, he couldn't detect any sign of life. Evan took a big deep breath and filled his lungs completely with the healthy country air. After this he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, but after a moments hesitation, he thought better of it, and started off along the track. Evan wanted to take everything in, breathe everything in, he wished to bathe in his current surroundings, the air was so much fresher than he was used to. He thought that maybe he should move to the country, and as the thought bounced around in his brain, a bird flew out of a nearby tree, loudly flapping it's wings as it glided away and into the distance beyond him.

Evan kept a steady eye on the track ahead of him, it still seemed to run on for miles. After some time he passed by some cyclists, they seemed to be a family. A bit further along and he met a man walking his dog, they exchanged glances, Evan looked back on the old man after they'd passed each other, the dog ran off ahead as the man walked on steadily, leaning on his stick to support him.

Peace surrounded Evan, as he walked he listened to the sound of his walking shoes hitting the gravel track, his feet would disrupt the dirt as he moved forward, causing it to shift abruptly and spill forward as the small specs of dust would rise and settle back down on the ground. Small stones slipped back and forth almost in rhythm with his boots scuffing against turf beneath him.
For a while these were the only sounds he could hear.



Only a handful of people had passed Evan on his walk, and none of them were going his way. He'd been walking in deep thought, soaking in as much of the scenery as possible for nearly two hours. The early onset of darkness was beginning to creep in. It was then that he stopped walking and turned around, hands on hips he looked back on himself, upon the path he'd been following. He thought how much it looked the same as that which lay ahead of him, with no clear distinctions between either direction.


Suddenly as Evan began to ponder this, he became deeply confused. He knew he now had to turn round and head back towards the hotel, as time was against him and night would soon follow. If he carried on walking in the same direction any further, he had no idea where it would eventually lead him. Panic struck him as he now couldn't remember which way was back. They both looked exactly the same he thought, he had turned round to look behind him, but now as an unsettling feeling began to rise up inside him, his mind had tricked him and so had the forest track.

He thought about sitting on the verge, but instead paced around, desperately trying to coax his memory into reminding him of his previous footsteps. With Evan's mind racing, he decided to waste no more precious time, and chose a direction hoping for the best that it would lead him back to more familiar ground. He couldn't be sure now if it was the true way back or if he was continuing along the same path as before, and once again into the unknown.


The wind had picked up by now, and a cold breeze struck through the air, wrapping around Evan as he quickened his pace this time, feet hardly touching the ground as he was eager to find out if he'd made the right choice. He tried hard not to think about the two hours walking he'd have to do to get back. Another thought then hit him just as a small branch came hurtling through the air, having fallen from a nearby tree, it landed peacefully next to Evan's left shoe. He couldn't be sure if they would lock the forest at any time, Evan hadn't even thought to read the information board on the way in. He took in a nervous breath and quickened his pace further, feeling all the joints of his legs ache for submission, after all the hours of walking. At this point adrenalin had kicked in and pushed him on despite the pain that he could feel in his body.

While he was walking, he constantly looked around, never before had he been so hopeful of meeting a fellow face, so he could check his bearings with them. He thought back to London, and how many times he'd despised never being alone. His body began to shake as he progressed further, a cold and uncomfortable sweat was beginning to break out over Evan's body as both his feet winced with agony.

The wind continued to whistle around the trees as the lone figure of Evan made his way along the forest footpath.









The next morning an American couple on holiday, armed with their three children took to the forest. It was a bright sunny day, and the air was clear as always. The wind had settled down, blowing itself carefully upon the old trees. Whilst on their journey, they stopped briefly to glance at a Town map guide that lay before them, cruelly discarded on the cold and hardened ground.






END

The unknown placement - Back to the start.

The devil is getting increasingly annoyed at my futile writing, along with my persistence to continue...................





Chris Brookes had started life as a happy child, this despite a some what turbulent beginning as he was pushed forth into the world, largely brought on by his dysfunctional mother, leaving the family home as she did at the first available opportunity. It was to be a messy conclusion to the never quite happy family that was never destined to end in happiness for anyone, particularly Chris.

With her latest boyfriend in tow, Chris' mother Flo was gone, her serial cheating had at last come to a head and John, Chris' father had finally opened his eyes. She would only emerge sometime later in frequent fits of violence upon her house visits late at night, but Chris did not want to see her.

John's eyes were opened by Chris' future step mother Terri, who made sure that she had cleared the path away for herself to move in with John, and this happened almost straight away.

Flo and Terri, had been friends of sorts, Terri was a child minder and occasionally looked after Chris. Both Chris and Terri's son Jason went to the same schools, infants and primary, and so the link between them had began.

Flo believed that Terri was a true friend, convinced that she could confide in her, giving her intimate details of all her sordid affairs, not knowing that Terri had very real designs upon John. Armed with the knowledge of all Flo's marital shortcomings, it made it so much easier to pounce, especially as the pace at which Terri and John became closer was gathering speed by the day.


And so it became that Terri moved into John and Chris' modest bungalow, along with her son Jason. Both kids were 8 years old at the time. They would share a room until their teens.



As Chris got older, he would often look back at his life and reflect, he would think about the manipulative step mother who ruined his childhood and his relationship with his father. He would think back to his first disappointment of failing his eleven plus, remembering the hope he had that somehow against all odds, he would actually pass. He remembered his step mother's delight at his failure, more so as her son had passed. The amazing drawing he had down as a child, his fathers excited interest at how good it was, and the disappointment he felt at it being a fluke, a one off, and at how quick the interest then vanished.

Often the nightmares would come, waking up in a frenzy, hot and dripping with sweat, frequently they were centred around the family home.

Chris dropped out of High School, with not a qualification to his name, this brought further untold delight to his step mother, more so as her son was heading for university. Don't leave school without qualifications, if you do you'll hate your life when your older, was a message that should of been bestowed upon Chris at an early age by his parents, but it wasn't. A series of dead end depressing jobs would await Chris as he entered adulthood. His brief triumph came some years later when he went back to evening college to gain a qualification in English language. The class was full of teens, just out of school and Chris was by far the oldest, but he stuck it out to the end and completed the year. He had always had an interest in writing, English had been his best subject during his nightmare time at secondary school. It was the only class in which he wasn't in the bottom group. A shy introverted and awkward teen, with ill fitting clothes including trousers too short for him, he would stumble to the front of the class to give the much anticipated and dreaded weekly talk to the rest of the group, nervously he would ramble on about random topics, speech fraught with terror until at last the torrid twenty minutes would come to a welcome end.

Confidence would often be lacking from Chris' life, even as he got older he struggled against the world and himself, desperately trying to gather enough certainty to get by.

By the age of sixteen, Chris had already moved from the family home in Sussex. After taking on his first job, the daily rows with his step mother had steadily increased and he eventually moved into a bedsit virtually opposite his work place, in the house of an angry senile old lady. All the abuse in the world from his new land lady, was still bliss compared to the scorn he'd suffered from his step mother. He later realised that she had hated him so because of his mother, looking at him and seeing the image of Flo stood in front of her. Chris still couldn't understand the depth of hate for a child that she had so clearly felt, and probably never would.

There was much to think about from the past that consumed Chris' mind daily. You can't get on with the future, if you don't deal with the past, was another banner that featured heavily in Chris' world. He knew this only to well. Relationships had ended badly in his life, it probably wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that all of them had suffered the same fate in the end. He put this down to him, and him alone. In his mind he was much like his mother especially in regards to relationships and partners, and somehow couldn't shake free of her self destroying hold over him. Chris had many ex partners, who couldn't overcome the issues that he had, all of them tried to pierce the barrier that he surrounded himself in, but in the end it was Chris who walked away everytime. He still thought about them everyday.

Chris was now living in Bristol and working in a call centre, the latest in a long line of dead end jobs, and one that took up most of his time, robbing him of precious hours he'll never see again. The long hours took their toll on him, draining his very being, until it was almost too hard to achieve anything else. His relationship with his parents was over long ago. Seeing his father as weak for never taking his side, or helping him in adult life, longing only for the odd phone call to check on his well being, and to Chris, his step mother was the grand destroyer of it all. Flo had come back into his life briefly at one time, but shortly after left again, as her selfishness had not wained over the years and this soon became clear in the few forgettable meetings that they shared. Placing demands upon Chris without the right to do so after so many years. Chris walked away and washed his hands of the whole family affair, content to leave each and everyone of them behind, locking them away in the past, consigned to history, which in Chris' mind was where they should stay. The past however, would often come back to haunt him, if only in his thoughts and dreams.

Chris had seemed to fight with the devil all of his life, to him it was never ending. Even the simplest of tasks appeared to be almost like moving mountains over quick sand.




Chris had reached the age of 28. One day shortly before work, whilst rushing to be on time, fearing he would be late again, he misjudged a van on the main road whilst crossing. The driver had no time to react, and Chris had no time left.

His almost lifeless body was rushed into the nearby hospital in Bristol, as he lapsed into a coma. It was at this time that Chris started dreaming about units in a compound.



TBC

Unknown placement - After The Trip

Chris walked alone down a small path, he could see units ahead of him as he came closer to the compound. The trip at least was over for this week. They had stayed in a grim hotel on the 2nd floor, his Brother had disappeared again, he always did.

Chris was always guarded about his possessions in the compound, this thought was loosely vibrating throughout his head, when suddenly he was faced with a unit, blocking his pathway and preventing him from any further movement. Chris went to defend himself automatically, recalling the time he'd been jumped by the group of units who took all his possessions and fled away into the distant night. Such was the constant underlying terror that hide dormant, ready at any time to unleash itself across the compound and it's inhabitants.

In this case, it wasn't hostile and Chris relaxed slightly, still remaining partly on guard. Chris looked at the unit, then looked around, all the other units that had a moment ago been sighted ahead had now departed.

'Did you enjoy your trip?' asked the unit

'No, not really.' Replied Chris

'Well never mind, they'll be another one next week.'

Chris remained silent

'You know why your here, don't you?' the unit enquired

Chris thought for a moment ' Well, to be honest, no not really.....'

after a short pause Chris started up again ' I don't know, I think I'm either dead or I'm dreaming.'

'Well your not dead.' confirmed the unit

'Are you sure?'

'Yes'

'So I'm dreaming then.....?'

'Yes'

'I knew it.....that's what I thought.' said Chris sounding relieved. He looked down for a second and smiled, then looked up at the unit........

'Wait a minute, how do you know exactly? And anyway, this all seems far to real to just be a dream, I mean...... I know the difference, you can tell, you know.......'

And with that, the unit was gone, just as quick as he'd first appeared.

Chris was still not convinced with the unit's reassurance that he was still alive.

Meanwhile back in the compound, it was going out night, on this particular evening random units would meet up and then drift away usually separately back to the rest quarters. Often randomly choosing a place amongst the rest rooms to settle. Chris headed for his usual bed, not a single unit was present at this time.

Some time later.............

Chris found himself in the bathroom, looking out towards a courtyard, it was school time in the compound, and as he watched, units filled the wood work class one by one. He had a strong feeling that he was also due to attend the same lesson, but as he left the washrooms, he turned away from the class and made for the common, which was situated all around. To the left of the class was the pack house he'd passed by recently. He thought he would walk for a while and try to find another unit to talk to. Communication was sparse in the compound, and sporadic to say the least, even at the best of times. Chris searched for what seemed like an eternity to him, eventually finding a lone unit, a female. She was located in the house quarters, which was very close to the rest area. In the house quarters the curtains were always drawn, and it always seemed to be 06.00am in the morning, the lights were on, as they always were.

Chris walked into the room, as he did this the female unit packed bags full of clothes and emptied out her drawers. She had filled several suitcases by now, and as Chris entered, her packing was coming to an end.

'Where are you going?' asked Chris

After drawing a huge sigh and placing her hands on her thighs, she replied....

'Nowhere.'

'But what about all your bags, all the packing?'

'I can't leave here.....' she replied

'How do you mean?'

'Everyday I do this, everyday I pack these bags, the same bags......then I go to the bus, I get on the bus, and soon after I'm back here again.' The female unit stood and looked at her bags placing a hand leaning on the handle of the largest case.

'For how long?' asked Chris

'I don't know........a long time.'

Chris looked at her, she was pretty, but looked tired and very skinny, her collar bones stood out and moved together as she spoke softly to him. She appeared quite young too he thought, certainly younger than he was. He looked over at her bags.

'I was told that I'm in a dream.....' he said.

The female unit looked up at him sharply and replied,

'This isn't a dream we're in....'

Chris looked her in the eye,

'Are you sure, how do you know?'

'I know only too well.' she replied

Chris moved around on the spot, suddenly feeling a shooting pain dart right across his stomach. The serious expression on her face when she spoke those words had sent a chill down his spine. He glanced round to look at her bags.

'Well, then why are we here, what for, do you know?' he asked.

The unit picked up her belongings one by one, throwing a bag over her right shoulder, that nearly knocked her sideways. She turned to face him.

'Yes I do..........give me a hand on to the bus and I'll tell you.'

Chris nodded his head, and moved towards her, shortly they left together, for the bus, which was situated a short walk outside the house quarters.



As they leave, the unit who had spoken to Chris earlier, stood back, carefully out of view, watching the pair of them board the bus.

The unknown placement.

Chris looked on into the vast void of indescribable nothingness.

Another unit approached him from his blind side.

'And you thought living was bad' communicated the passing unit

'I did actually' Replied Chris

'Well, you might just be dreaming' and with that the unit was gone.

And that was the whole point, how could he tell.

Chris walked along through the gloom, and found the place he'd been dreaming about for so long.

He tried to remember what it felt like to dream this state he was now in, and if he was indeed still in deep slumber.

He looked toward the compound, it was set exactly as he had remembered it. He was now facing a ramp head on, other units were moving back and forth, right in front of his eyes. Some were women, and one short blonde women seemed to be leading the others. They were busy, but they seemed to be rushing to do nothing at all. Chris watched for a while to satisfy this observation. He looked to see if he could recognize any of the workers, but could not see their faces properly. There was much movement within the team, which lead to no obvious results.

There was very little, if any noise coming from the compound, this struck him as normal for some reason.

Suddenly the unit leader shouted to him 'Have you found it yet?'

Chris unable to offer a reply, looked at her briefly and then followed the ramp across to the living quarters.

'We've been looking for too long now, we need to get back to work soon.....' The unit leader shouted after him, but Chris had already gone.

Walking around the living area, he could recall straight away, where he was to retire, it all looked the same, but felt different this time, like a dream never feels completely real, this felt as real as it possibly could. He touched the wall for a second, it was stone cold. The area was empty, it comprised of a huge space divided into rooms, with many beds layed out per room. There was no visible order to anything that stood here. He remembered that sometimes units would often swap places, nothing would ever stay the same for too long. Units would come and go, he would get to know them, then never see them again. Once a women turned up by his quarters to stay, asking if he had any cigarettes spare, he did and she arrived some time later, baring a large blue suitcase on wheels. Then she vanished without a trace and he couldn't remember anything more about her. He now had no cigarettes.

Chris followed steps leading to another ward of rest rooms, for some reason it was here that felt most familiar to him. He sat down and closed his eyes. As he did so he thought to himself that the compound seemed to be spotless, not a single spec of dust could be found anywhere.

Just then he heard another unit come through the landing door, left ajar by Chris, it was his Brother. Standing tall and silent, dressed in nothing but white, as he always did, Larry entered the room. Not a word was spoken, but Chris knew precisely what was to come next........................

Chris sensed the uneasy feeling that always hung heavy over the compound, but like always, he was now ready for the trip. He felt somehow that the air of horror that surrounded would soon follow him, and with that Chris was gone.

Cash

It's after midnight at Visa International's offices in London, Steve a middle aged man, the night security officer sits on the reception, to his right are locked glass entrance doors. It's quiet now and Steve sits head in hands watching the wide screen tv in front of him, suddenly a man appears at the glass doors with a package in his hands, he's a courier decked out in UPS uniform and a handheld electronic signing device in his hand. Steve see's him and releases the doors.

The man put's on a black balaclava and removes a bag from his back pocket and walks quickley over to the reception.

Man 'I've got a gun, it's loaded, take me to the money....'

Steve looks at him not saying a word, the bag and object inside it now being pointed in his face.

Man 'Come on man, did you hear me?'

Steve 'Yes I heard you'

Man 'Well what you waitin for?'

slight pause and silence as both men look at each other the man standing over Steve

Man 'Don't play with me bruv, I'm not afraid to use this either you know....it's loaded I told you....'

Steve ' Well go on then....'

Man 'What'

Steve 'Well go on, if your gonna shoot me, then just do it and get it over and done with...'

Man scratches his head getting agitated.

Steve 'Look, I've just had the shift from hell ok, on top of that I'm heavily in debt, plus my whole life is in a mess, I got divorced last year, I left my travel card at home, it's fucking raining outside and holiday request has just been turned down......so I don't give a shit right now and like I say, if your gonna do it, let's go'

Man 'Look I want the money, that's why I came here, just take me to where the money is, right then I'm gone, that's it, you get me...'

Steve ' What money?'

Man 'Look I'm getting tired of this bro, you know what I'm saying, just give me the money, or your gonna get it I swear...'

Steve ' There is no money here, what money are you talking about?'

Man ' Don't get funny with me man, I swear down, this is Visa...'

Steve ' Yes but they don't have cash here, it's not a bank, it's electronic, cards, chips you know'

Man 'They must have some dough here'

Steve ' No they have no money here, I told you, it's a corporate office, what do you want....? Look, take it have my money, go on...'

coins are tossed out on to reception

Man 'What's this.. Well how much you got?'

Steve ' That's it, that's all I have...'

Man scratches his head again 'No man, I don't want your money, I'm at Visa credit card, you get me, I want Visa's notes not yours, put it away man'

Steve puts the money back in his pocket

Man ' Trust me to get some sick brea, right last chance ok, take me to the where the money is, or you get it, don't play with me.......'

Steve 'Your not gonna shoot me'

Man 'Look, I've got my boys outside right, one word from me and they'll be here so stop messin'...'

Steve glances at the camera 'I can't see anyone'

Man 'Why aren't you doin' what I say'

Steve ' Cause that's not a gun in that bag, is it? It's that stupid handheld devise you had outside, I saw you with it, and anyway when have you ever seen a gun shaped like that, I can see it through the bag.....'

silence as the man thinks

Steve ' It's not a gun is it?

Steve then starts pulling at the bag to reveal the handheld gadget

Man 'Come on man'

Steve 'See I knew it, now what you gonna do? and just take off that balaclava, at least let me see who I'm wasting all this time with.'

Man slowly takes off the hat

Steve 'Why are you doing this, why are you here, bothering me, with all this (looks at the hat and devise)

Man ' I need the money man, kids at home you know how it is, Visa took my cash bruv you know what I'm sayin'

Steve 'Do you work?'

Man 'Na, come on man, there's nothing out there, I've tried boy........your lucky, you know that?'

Steve 'Have you even looked?'

Man 'Yeah I've looked, I check every single day, then you never here nothing back anyway....'

Steve 'Where did you get the uniform from then?'

Man 'It's a friend's I borrowed it, especially'

Steve ' Can't you work for UPS? I mean you've got most of the equipment already....'

Man 'No, I checked'

slight pause

Steve ' Look, there's a job going upstairs, it's nothing much, you know up in the staff canteen, the managers a friend of mine, I know he's still looking........so are you interested?'

slight pause as the man thinks

Man 'Yeah...'

Steve ' Ok, just get here tomorrow in the afternoon to see him, say around 3, I'll give him a call, let him know your coming.....'

Man 'Ok, tomorrow...........................but why would you do this anyway? You know after, all this?'

Steve '.....I don't know, you need a job...?'

Man 'Yeah'

Steve ' what's your name anyway...?'

Man ' Ashley'

Steve 'Alright then Ashley, just write your number on here, the guy's name is Donis'

Man 'ok........ what about the cameras?'

Steve ' Don't worry, I'll sort it.......just be here tomorrow'

Man nods

The two men shake hands, then Ashley picks up his things and leaves, looking back at Steve before he closes the reception door.

Steve shakes his head and laughs softly to himself, he then glances over to a pile of newspapers stacked up concealing the laptop he'd only an hour earlier, stolen from upstairs.



END