posted on Dec, 10 2010 @ 02:29 PM
Jim remembered back to the time when the men who worked shifts at the foundry came home this way, he and his mates were playing football and the men
would often join in, packing out the teams to twenty-a-side.
They'd play for hours until the street lamps came on and then the men would drift off. The men would get home, have their tea, and then out for a
couple of beers at the Working Man's club that slumped not far from where Jim stood now.
The kids would play on, the ball looming ghost-like out of the darkness.
Jim looked around the park, his heart felt stifled as the memories came back.
That was where he kissed Cathy, over there he'd hidden the dead animals he'd found, over there was where he'd fought his mate Chris.
I've been away too long he thought. He'd fled this town ten years ago after Tracey had left him.
He knew that the place was going bad, the murders had subsided thank God, but people were still afraid to walk the streets at night. The foundry had
shut and the economy of the area had nose-dived.
He had joined the navy and went to see the world. Well, he'd seen Bristol, Southampton and for four months he'd enjoyed the delights of Scappa
Even when the threat of war came and he'd been told to get ready, he had always known that he would not be going anywhere.
Jim moved off towards the bandstand, it stood alone and bare in the middle of the park. Sawgrass grew around its base and the paint had peeled from
most of its fencing.
The tiles from the roof lay scattered about the grass like playing cards.
Jim walked up the chipped concrete steps and surveyed the park again.
The weather was cold this morning and Jim's breath plumed out as the old memories had crept upon him. He'd brought Tracey here one night, Jim smiled
as he remembered her kisses and that sickly smell of her perfume.
He had loved her and he believed they would have married if she hadn't left.
A frown came across Jim face, Tracey had never understood him he thought, She'd laughed at him when he'd told her about his bad dreams.
Jim looked at his shoes and walked slowly to the bandstands fence. A women with a baby in a pushchair scuttled along the path to the exit of the park.
Snow had started to gently fall and already making the park feel more alone than it already was.
He looked across at his bag squatting on the damp boards, he'd had this hold-all from when he'd left here to sail the high seas! It's leather
handles worn and gnarled with the time and the climate.
Tracey had bought him it for his football kit when he played for the foundry team on Saturdays.
The snow fell heavier now, blanketing the grass and the paths.
Jim picked up his bag and walked towards the Working Man's club. His tracks from the bandstand quickly lost as the snow quietly hid his passage.
He stopped next to the old elm that marked the boundary of the park. He snapped open the leather bag and peered in.
Tracy was asleep, her eyes were closed and that funny smell had gone.
"I'm just nippin' for a pint, honey" Jim whispered.