‘You’re sitting by the fire and
your house is intruded by some stray and out of the kindness of your heart, you
make him tea, and then, lickety split, he wants to move on. Well thank you very
much!’
The bubble of irritation rises
in my throat like bile, burning my insides and turning them black.
‘I didn’t mean to intrude,’ I
snap. ‘I don’t know how to control myself. I only died a couple of hours ago
and after seeing my parents and my girlfriend’s parents distraught after losing
us, I’m a little unsettled. If you don’t want people finding you here, why do
you leave all the lights on?’
‘Will you stop it with the
girlfriend?’ pleads Yates. ‘There were so many people like you at school, and
at work. You drove me to it!’
‘Drove you to what?’ My fingers
prickle as Yates’ temper rises and ebbs to a monotonous drone. It is only then
that I notice the red marks around his neck. He follows my eyes and adjusts his
collar. ‘Mr Yates,’ I begin, realising my mistake. ‘Let me…’
‘No, no, no,’ he repeats and he’s
marching towards me. My tea goes flying, hot liquid spilling over the counter.
The cup topples, and spins, shattering on the worn tiles on the kitchen floor.
He grabs the hood of my hoody and I’m being dragged through the hallway.
‘You don’t need to do this,’ I
say. ‘I want to stay, I’m sorry!’
We clip the same pile of books
as before and it topples again. The
Alchemist catches my eye, that bright red, worn cloth cover spinning and
coming to land, pages open on the floor.
He opens the door in front of me
and throws me onto the doorstep.
‘The next time a man invites you
into his home, don’t insult him,’ he says. ‘I’ve had it with you, I’ve had it
with everyone. I just want you all to leave me alone. Travel by closing your
eyes and counting to ten. Think of wherever you want to go and you’ll be there,
just make it far away from here!’
His voice rises with every word
and ends the sentence on a shout, slamming the green door in my face.
The cold of the outside world strikes me like a fist and I wrap my thin clothes around myself.
He keeps the lights on because he’s
desperate for company, he pushes everyone away because he’s as damaged in death as the
world made him in life. My heart goes out to the man who trapped himself. I
close my eyes and reach out, but not very far. He still stands on the other
side of the door, still like a statue. His outline is masked by the darkness
that’s filled his body.
I store the feeling of the
haystack field and the castle of books in my mind. I remember the smell of the
hay and the moistness of the air; the scent of books and the crackle of fire.
I count to ten, knowing where to
go next.
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