The car passed through the gap in the mountains and then they saw it, in all its vastness, the ocean, drawing the eye away from the rugged, arid landscape all the way to the horizon, to the blue. To the edge of the earth where you where unsure what was sky and what was sea. It was magnificent.
They continued along the coast road for ten minutes hoping for a glimpse, hoping that the stories heard for years over countless numbers of pints would be true. The story of the dragon. How when the winds changed direction and blew up the side of the cliff, out from his cave would come the creature, out from his hibernation to stamp his footprint back on the earth.
Up and down the valley they searched, their eyes desperately following every movement in their view and then… they saw it. The air changed, became cold, the sun brightened piercing the eyes of the travellers making them squint for a moment. The Dragon roared, the sound boomed across the valley and out to the sea, the cliffs shook with the vibration and the Dragon soared into the sky, twisting, spinning and stretching its every limb. Then it was gone, as it crossed from one blue to another, it vanished, gone… as if it were just a cloud.
I didn’t understand it. I had so many questions inside my head, but none of the answers that I could come up with made any sense. And the worst part, I couldn’t stop the thoughts, they constantly bombarded my every moment, it was exhausting.
By the time the third day after the break up came around I finally found the energy to pick myself up and do something healthy, to try and make me feel wanted again. Somehow I needed to feel good and worthy. So I did all the things that when I was happy I put off, it’s funny how when you are happy you don’t need to do anything, you feel loved and that’s enough, if you are loved then what you do doesn’t matter, success or failure you will be loved. But when you are down, wow, then you need some medicine.
But after one day of feeling myself again, I saw her, and she was with him. My heart melted and it was back to questions, self doubt and no sleep. I wondered how long it would last, would I feel shit forever? Would the sadness pass? I don’t know, I promised myself that time would heal me, to be patient, but my temper flared and there were moments where I could not control myself I became violent to myself. I was desperate to cry to release everything, but I couldn’t bring the tears, I was numb.
I tried to pick myself up again, restore some energy into my life, but all I could do was think of ways of getting her back. That was the wort thing, all this pain and suffering I was feeling, caused by her, and all I could do was try get her back, return it to the place it was before, the place I had left it, the time when everything between us was natural, when we didn’t have to think, we were just good together. It was magic, like I genuinely believe that it was magic. But was that what she felt at the time? I don’t know, it seemed that way, maybe she was just a great actress.
Things moved fast, life didn’t change much, but there never seemed to be a moment to pause. There was always someone to chat to or laugh with, and you were always close to them, parked up next door or across the road. You could drive somewhere else, but inevitably someone would turn up and then play would resume.
The funniest times were when crews with children turned up, two little rat-bags running around the wild, covered in dirt, but beaming with smiles. It was great to see them play, their imaginations were alive, their toys broken but ingrained with evidence of many stories.
It made me think about our own family, maybe we were all just a bunch of big kids and moving fast wasn’t such a bad thing, maybe it kept our own imaginations alive.
Sometimes I have to tell myself to look around, to stop and appreciate what’s around me. But most of the time I just stare at the rock. It’s hard to look around when your focus is elsewhere. But one day I will, it will probably be too late and I will have missed the chance of a good view, but I promise myself, when I am old and can’t climb as much, I will stop to look around.
Despite promising himself the time to look around was going to be later, Matty was surprised. He was up early at the top of the cliff, he and his climbing partner James had stayed the night on the rocks and were preparing to continue their assent. Dawn was breaking and the light was blue. Matty turned to look at the pitches below him, to seek out the valley floor, but his view was interrupted by the clouds marching in below him.
The valley quickly filled and Matty nudged his mate to wake him. James opened his eyes slowly, sat up on the ledge and let his sleepy eyes dance across the bed of clouds.
‘Wow’ he announced, ‘That’s pretty fuckin cool’.
The two climbers sat in silence breathing in the air letting nature show off in front of them.
Two hours later and the boys were climbing again, making their final push to the top of the cliff, as Matty sat in his harness belaying his friend he thought back to the morning clouds and the excitement they had inspired. Taking his eyes off the rock face he looked to the sky. Above him Vultures circled flying down to his level, swooping below him and then in wide arcs returning up, out of the valley into the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful sound as they passed, huge wings beating slowly, majestically, Matty could almost feel the air they pushed in his direction. He smiled to himself. He smiled back at mother nature.
‘Safe’ James called. The signal that he was secure at the anchor of the pitch. It was his turn to climb.
The boys hid in the reeds watching through the mist. They were pretty certain the hunters had gone, but there was no guarantee that they would not return.
‘So what’s the plan?’
‘We need to get the shotgun cartridges.’
‘How do we know where they are?’
‘We don’t that’s why we have to go and have a look.’
‘So they might not even be in the hut, they could have taken them with them.’
Joseph and Andrew had been set another task, this time however it wasn’t part of the initiation it was part of what they did, causing chaos. Out on the lake there were a series of huts on stilts for the duck hunters. The lake wasn’t fenced so the boys could get to the hut without ‘trespassing’, but out in the open, on the lake, there was a high possibility of being spotted and perhaps shot at, deliberately or by accident.
‘Why do we need the cartridges anyway?’
‘Look it’s not our job to ask questions, you have to wait a few years before you can ask questions. Robin will have a plan.’
‘You think he has a gun?’ Joseph asked, Andrew paused letting the words bounce around in his head.
‘I don’t know’ he answered honestly, thinking about the repercussions of getting shot gun cartridges for a real gun. ‘That’s not for thinking abut now, we got to get what we have been told to get and then… Well then we think about the next…’ He trailed off.
Joseph frowned unsatisfied by the answer, but wasn’t brave enough to challenge any more. ‘Shall we swim?’
The boys took off their shirts, trousers and lowered themselves into the water. It was August, but the lake was still cold, the cold ran through their bodies as they tiptoed into the water, clay oozing up in-between their toes. Taking one last breath Andrew lowered his chest into the water and started swimming. Quietly Joseph followed.
It didn’t take them long to arrive at the hut, they circled the building weaving in and out of the pillars in the water looking for some steps up. The poles were slippery, coated in green slime, but at the back Joseph found some steps, he beckoned to Andrew and they hauled themselves onto the platform.
Shivering the two boys scanned the lake’s perimeter, the mist was thick and their movements seemed to have gone unnoticed. Andrew knelt down by the entrance, pressing his ear to the door checking for signs of activity inside. Joseph flicked his head toward Andrew as if to ask if he could hear anything. Andrew shook his head in response, stood clasped the handle, paused, twisted and burst into the room.
It was empty, well, uninhabited at least. There was a sigh of relief and the boys set to work looking for shotgun cartridges.
‘Anything?’ Joesph asked
‘It’s all fishing stuff, bait, rods, tins of meat, look at this’ Andrew held up a tin of smoked sardines, ‘this box is full, I think whoever comes here has a bit of an addiction. You?’
‘Nope, petrol cans, blankets and cooking stuff.’
‘Any shot guns?’ The boys laughed. ‘Joe hold on, come here.’ Andrew had pulled back an old tarpaulin revealing a crate. Joseph crossed the room.
‘What you got?’
‘Shot gun cartridges’ Andrew replied looking at his mate and then back to a red box with ammunition written on it and a drawing of shot gun cartridges. Joseph reached down picked it up and opened the lid.
‘Watch them closely… and listen it’s a very interesting form of communication’
Jeremy was teaching his favourite class showing footage from the beginning of the digital age, it was a time when the power of internal conflict was not fully understood but was being used very effectively.
‘But it doesn’t make us any money’ Sasha demanded while pointing adamantly at the pool of ideas spread out across the table. ‘We need to focus on the sales in the bar.’
‘But it draws people into the bar in the first place, without the events we don’t attract as many people’
‘We do, the climbing attracts the people and we don’t have to have any investment in that, it’s here already’
Elizabeth laughed, but it was a sarcastic laugh, meant to impose her intellect. ‘We have invested thousands in the climbing’
‘And made money back’ Bernard added smartly.
‘Yea but times are changing.’ A row was simmering.
Jeremy stopped the tape and turned back to the class. ‘Okay can anyone tell me what what’s going on?’
Lucy raised her hand, ‘Yes Lucy’
‘Well the Co-op has made it’s money from the the climbers coming to the village and Elizabeth wants to diversify but Bernard thinks she is just spending the money made from the climbers on her own arts events.’
‘Great that is what’s happening on the face of things, but what is going on internally?’ The class took a collective breath, some bums shuffled in seats the eyes turned away from the professor back to their tablets. ‘Shall I continue?’ The class nodded in unison, Jeremy pressed play.
‘The main reason people keep coming back is not because of the climbing, it’s because of the people.’
‘You mean the climbers’
‘Shut up Bernard, stop being such a pig headed fool. The community is what makes it, you admit yourself that the parties and the bar create a cool atmosphere in the village.’
Bernard was quiet he agreed with her but wasn’t about to admit it. He just wanted more routes.
Elizabeth continued ‘If we want to keep the profits in the bar, we need to keep our audience hungry.’
Jeremy paused the tape again. ‘Okay internal conflict anyone?’
John raised his hand ‘The more they eat in the bar the more money they make?’ The class burst into laughter.
‘Very amusing John, can anyone expand on John’s words of wisdom?’
Joe put up his hand
‘Yes Joe’
‘Elizabeth wants the knowlege of the experiences in the bar to act like the social media frameworks.’
‘Good, quickly explain the social framework’
Joe paused for a moment… ‘You keep your audience by showing ‘the hero avatar’. Posts show your best life, so followers buy into you.’
‘Good so how is that playing out here?’
‘I am not sure if they are doing it digitally yet, but Elizabeth wants the the public to know about parties and art as the hero avatar. Perhaps she believes the diversification is more of a hook than just climbing.’
‘Okay good, that sounds like a hungry audience and what about the internal conflict? Yes Lucy.’
‘There are two, Bernards refusal to believe in Elizabeth’s art community makes her more adamant that it is right, Bernard effectively keeps her hungry. And the people coming to the village see or hear about the parties and climbing and want to be part of it.’
‘Great so what do we call that?’
The class answered in unison, ‘positive internal conflict and negative internal conflict.’
The regime was strict, roles and responsibilities were clearly defined and the swarm delivered. There were no complaints and no disobedience, but in time the workers were drawn to the cascade.
‘Have you ever flown between the sticks?’
‘You mean pass the wall between the bombs?’
‘Yea’
‘No that’s crazy, if you get hit with one of them it’s over. You’ll end up spinning in circles in the water below.’
‘Terry did it last week.’
There was a hush around the group as the story sunk in. ‘No way, that’s not true Terry wouldn’t even take on the keeper, he once told me he is scared of the walkers. The honey thieves. There is no chance he would take on the bombs.’
‘He did and he said it was the most incredible feeling ever. Clean wings no gold dust, and when he said clean, it wasn’t just like wiping your antennas, he said he could fly twice as fast, like those dragon flys.’
‘Shut up, are you telling me he flew into some of the bombs? Like they actually hit him?’
‘Yea, he took four or five hits’
‘And he didn’t crash, he was able to handle the weight?’
‘Yea he said it was hard, the force of the water was big, but he said he just held on.’
‘Was he in the air?’
‘Not sure, he was definitely on the stick for a few, but one might have hit him in the air.’
‘Brrrrr..’ Jay rolled his lips shaking his head in disbelief, ‘I don’t believe it, crazy… and he said he could fly twice as fast?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘Wow’ Jay looked over at the cascade, dreaming of speed.
Money was coming into the town, which was good for the villagers, but meant that they had to put up with the habits of the newcomers, some of which were more tolerable than others. But there were some, who lived alone, that were still not accustomed to seeing new faces. They were known in the village as the mountain people for the obvious reason that they lived in small shacks high in the mountains. They farmed the land and kept livestock so the after affects of the blackout had had little effect on them.
The reliance on the blue vein had disabled many people’s ability to think for themselves but these people still had the old skills and their customs hadn’t changed for many years.
As the newcomers grew in numbers so did their interest in the wider countryside.
James stood in the cave that overlooked the valley his eyes fixated on the three men that were moving down the hillside, they slowly traversed down the earthy goat path making sure not to slip on the loose terrain. He had not seen any foreigners in a long time, but he didn’t want them to see him, so he picked up his satchel and made his way back to the hut.
‘So you want to be one of us?’ Robin announced after a long hiatus, Joseph nodded in reply. ‘Well it’s not that easy you know…’ Joseph didn’t flinch, kept control of his emotions and looked back into Robin’s eyes, not too fiercely, but enough to show he could stand his ground.
‘We can test him first’ Andrew chimed in.
‘Of course we’re gonna test him, everyone gets tested.’ Andrew looked away sheepishly. ‘You think you are up for that?’ he added talking to the new recruit.
Joseph looked up from the floor and nodded, ‘I am fast, what do I have to do?’
The crew nodded at each other. The boys were all sitting in the attic of the ruin at the top of the village, they had transformed it into a base for their crew and met each weekend to organise their next mission. Today was the induction of a new lad, Joseph, who had just arrived in town.
There was some chatter between the crew and after a few moments Joseph turned to the new boy.
‘Okay listen and listen good, I am only gonna say this once.’ Silence fell around the room. ‘First we gonna blindfold you and take you to the centre of town, you gotta find Mr Finlay’s shop and get into the attic, I’ll give you a clue, there is an old fire escape at the back, it’s not solid but if you are quick you’ll get up it.’ The boys all looked at each other, sly smiles emerging on their faces. ‘Then once you are up there you gotta open one of his old chests, I ain’t gonna tell which one you gotta go for, but you gotta find a skull, the bigger the better.’ Robin paused and signalled around the room with his eyes.
Joseph followed his gaze and saw seven or eight large unidentified skulls hanging on a rope high in the room. He hadn’t noticed them before. Robin continued.
‘Once you got the skull you gotta make you way through the alley ways and back to us, but watch out there maybe a few extra challenges on the way.’
He hid behind the tar barrel waiting for the sailor to move, time was short but if he went now he would definitely give his position away, so he sat, huddled, waiting.
There seemed to be some discussion about the theft but the facts that Toby could overhear didn’t worry him. They were thin on the ground and they definitely didn’t know he was aboard. The two sailors finally departed, Toby had his chance.
He crawled out from behind the barrel and crossed the deck, making sure to avoid the ropes and the wooden board, that looked as if might squeal and give his position away. He paused by the mast, double checked the last few meters and scrabbled to the ladder. Swiftly he spun around and climbed down, as he got close to the water he gave one last look back to the deck, no one, then slid into the water.
After six or seven strokes he was clear, he had to swim fast, but not make any sound, he kept his body low, deep in the water, taking long strokes praying the morning sun would not reveal him.
Finally he pulled himself up the pebbled beach and ran towards the undergrowth. He felt his pocket, it was still there. He let our a small cry of happiness, smiled and vanished into the olive grove.
Life From the Dirt 