Yoyo Jump(-ed)
He had to.
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LESS TO GAIN THAN WAS AT FIRST BY POPULAR OPINION THOUGHT
Sean stared down at the soggy bold headline; it was beggining, just now, after several hours in the half-hearted drizzle, to run. The newspaper stand had managed to catch only a small collection of the flotsam of humanity drifting down main street, and no-one was buying. Over the trickling gutter, across the road, through the coasting traffic, up onto the dirty sidewalk, in the empty coffee shop across the road, a solitary staff member leant against the counter with his back towards the register. With one hand supporting his sallow face and the other scratching his silver hair he contemplated the sign above his head with dreamer like quizzicality. The menu items, promotions, sizes and gimicky iced beverages were gone and all that remained was a single block of text:
Medium black coffee with 5/8ths of an ounce of white sugar. Available.
“Ain’t a reading room.” said a voice. Sean looked up from the paper. “Ya gunna buy it or ya gunna move on out?” asked the newsagent.
“I can’t stay and read?”
“Nup, ya havta be buying it.”
“I can’t just stand here?” Sean asked, “I’m not even touching it.”
The newsagent wasn’t swayed.
“How much?” asked Sean, examining the front page again.
“Nothin.”
“What?” Sean looked for the joke in the newsagent’s eyes. He was dead serious.
“It’s free.”
“So..” Sean picked up the paper from the stack.
“Thankyou sir, have a nice day.” The newsagent turned away. Sean looked down at the front page, now illegable, a mess of greasy ink floating above the bleached paper. He began to walk away, trying unsuccessfuly to make out the start of the article. Suddenly he stopped and turned back towards the stand.
“I’ll just..” Sean grabbed a fresh newspaper from the stack motioning with the soggy one to the newsagent.
“What tha hell ya think ya doing there sir?” he asked, suddenly intent on Sean.
“Oh I just.. this ones wet, so I’ll- I’ll buy another.”
“Can’t let ya do that sir.” the newsagent moved closer. “Limit of one per customer per day.”
“This ones soggy though, I can’t read it.”
“Ya break it ya bought it” said the newsagent gimickally, snatching the fresh paper and turning away.
“What? But I didn’t break it. The rain broke it, and then I bought it.” The newsagent turned around grumpily. Some of the other customers turned to watch him. “And it’s not broken! It’s wet.”
“Sorry sir, I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“But they’re free?”
“They’re free once.”
“And after that?”
“They’re contraband.” The small audience of bystanders turned away in acceptance. This seemed to settle the matter. “Sorry” said the newsagent quietly.
Sean looked around at the stacks of newspapers. Stepping away from the stand he turned toward a passerby.
“Do you want a newspaper?” he asked her. The woman looked down skeptically at the soggy paper in his hand.
“Um, not re-” she began.
“No no, not this one.” Sean smiled. He threw the soggy paper into the gutter. “Do you want to buy a newspaper today?”
“Do you work for the stand?” asked the woman, still confused.
“Were you planning on purchasing a newspaper today?” clarifiend Sean slowly, growing serious.
“Is this a survey?”
“N-Yes.. it’s a survey.” said Sean, running with the idea. “It’s a survey about people buying newspapers.. today.” The woman thought for a moment.
“No I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Great!” said Sean “It’s not a survey, come with me.”
“What?”
“Just.. over here, one moment.” Sean grabbed her hand and walked towards the stand.
“I should really be-“
“Please, just come over to the newspaper stand.” interrupted Sean turning back to her with an earnest face. Pulling her hand away and reassuring herself with a glance at the current of people moving past, the woman approached the stand.
“Fine what?” She asked looking from the stand to Sean searchingly.
“I need you to get a paper.”
“But I just said I don’t-” began the woman impatiently.
“It’s okay they’re free.”
“Free?” asked the woman.
“No charge, you just have to pick it up.”
“Er..kay.” agreed the woman, reaching down to take a paper from the stack. The newsagent turned around and spotted her.
“Hey!”
The woman looked up, startled.
“I hope ya were planning on buying that.” said the newsagent calmly, content the would be shoplifter had put down the goods.
“Sorry I thought.. I thought they were free” she said innocently, shooting a frown at Sean who looked at the newsagent in confusion.
“They are free” the newsagent replied. “But ya gotta buy them.”
“What?” asked the woman glancing at Sean again, who was smiling vaguely, slightly tilting his head as he began to understand.
“If you want to buy one,” continued the newsagent “they’re free.”
“So..” the woman bent down slowly and took a newspaper.
“Thankyou ma’am, have a nice-” The newsagent spotted Sean. “You again? What do you want?”
“Nothing, nothing.” said Sean meekly.
The newsagent glanced back to the woman.
“Your not..” he began.
“She’s just buying a paper.” explained Sean “First one for her today. And I’m just doing nothing. I’m not doing anything.”
“Alright then off you go” said the newsagent turning away permissively.
“What was-” asked the woman.
“Thanks so much” said Sean, “mine got wet, and he wouldn’t let me take another.” he reached forward for the newspaper. The woman didn’t let go.
“The paper is free now?” she asked.
“Yes, free, but just once.” explained Sean, trying to pull the paper away.
“Only once?” she still wasn’t letting go.
“Once a day, you get a free newspaper once a day.”
“But you have to buy it?” she asked, smiling.
“Now you’ve got it.” Sean chuckled.
She let him have the newspaper.
“Excuse me sir.” said a rough voice from behind Sean. “Is this yours?”
Sean turned to see a man in uniform holding a lump of a wet newspaper.
“Umm..It-” stuttered Sean.
“It’s mine” said the woman. “I must have dropped it, so silly of me.”
“Well ma’am these things happen.” said the man, brightening as she smiled at him “But please remember littering is a serious offence and I’m sure you don’t want an officer to get the wrong idea.”
“Of course, so sorry” she said, taking the dripping paper.
“Well that’s alright, just try to hang on to it this time.” said the officer and then turned away down the street.
“Thanks” said Sean looking at the soggy bundle guiltily. “You really saved me there. I can take that if you want.” Sean reached out to take the ruined newspaper.
“Get your own.” said the woman kindly, pulling back and turning to leave.
“Thanks so much, er..”
“Charlotte.” she said, turning away.
“Sean.” he replied softly as she dissappeared into the crowd.
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Sarah’s Train
The night was dark and the diesel train was darker. Black from the soot that clung to the cold greasy steel in perfect equilibrium with the air rushing past. Sarah’s tiny hands disturbed the balance, scraping it away and pushing it into tiny dunes as she carefully crept forward. She was balancing on a thin railing which ran around the outside of the engine. Despite her deafened ears ringing and half shut eyes watering she found it difficult not to get distracted by the strange scenery rushing past. In the sky, giant clouds of thin neon lights formed and dissipated rapidly. Below them, huge glowing trees, brittle gleaming white branches entangling the sky and thick trunks emitting their own faint glimmer leading down towards unseen roots. Behind, between, and around these, other trains sprinting along their own rigid courses. Each with a great yellow lamp illuminating it’s path over, under, past or beyond Sarah’s own.
Sarah drew her eyes away from the trails of colored light, trying to stay focused on what was ahead. The side of another train was being illuminated by the lamp of her own as it thundered across her path. The arc of light revealing the obstruction suddenly shrank to an intense circle and with a gigantic boom her leading engine slammed into the side of the other train. Sarah was thrown forwards, as her hand holds flew away behind her she slowly began to fall, grasping frantically for something, anything. Her hand caught the railing she had been standing on, her body whipped down below the level of the wheels where instead of running into the ground her legs dipped beneath the surface of a warm fog which her train seemed to be riding on. Utterly terrified, her hand clung to the flimsy lifeline with strength beyond her control. Her wrist felt like stone. She couldn’t feel her estranged fingers, clearly unwilling to entrust her with the immense task of holding on. Ahead of her, a small yellow spot slowly grew to a blinding blast of light as yet another train flew past running parallel to Sarah’s own. Buffeting her, it sent her swinging side to side. Trying to ease back out of panic, Sarah reached up toward the railing with her other hand. As she grabbed it, she slowly felt her aching hand come back to her, still bitter from it’s ordeal. Sarah closed her eyes and took a few deeps breaths as her swinging came to a stop.
When Sarah opened her eyes again there was nothing to see, she blinked them again and again but it made no difference whether they were open or closed. All she knew was the harsh wind rushing past, chilling her dripping nose and the freezing railing above her head. Continuing to blink in disbelief but to no effect, Sarah pulled herself slowly upwards. Resting her elbows on the railing she reached up and hooked her hand over the ledge of the exterior doorway to the drivers compartment. Pulling herself up further, with only her ankles trailing down into the fog, her sight suddenly returned and she grasped the vertical hand rail next to the door and made a final effort to hoist herself onto the ledge. Finally standing upright on it, panting from the effort and securely holding the thick metal bar. Sarah tried to peer in through the pane of glass set in the door, her breath fogging up the lower half around her mouth. Not being able to see anything inside or find any way of opening the door, Sarah stepped around the hand rail towards the front of the train onto a set of steps embedded into it’s body. Bending forward and moving cautiously, Sarah pushed herself up the last few steps onto the top of the train. As she crawled back along the ventilation mesh, the surface of the roof dipped slightly and Sarah lay down in the small hollow of slipstream it created.
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New Look, New Direction
The site now looks very similar to my pyroom setup. I plan to post the things I write, partly for exposure but also just so they’re on the cloud. So don’t read anything.
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Metahypocrisy
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Things are less clear cut now.
I’m not sure what color I am.
I think I know what color I want to be.
That should be enough?
Not a hypocrite. Just weak.
