AUT WRITING: Workshop Project One

The Elements:

Choose five random things

A land cruiser

A family batch

The Apple tree

Crack of thunder

Street lamp

A Simple character

Hamish – A young man in thread bare clothes

A Visual Image

The drop of water sliding down the neck and onto his back, the bones of his spine making a slalom course.

Now take these elements and create a story.

My Actually Story.

Hamish looked up at the strip of swirling grey. Two brick buildings framed the raised mist. The sudden downfall had washed away the usual stench of the city. It’s filthy and grime hidden under the layer of wet, offering his nose a small reprieve from the ally he had hidden in.

The absence of the rain allowed Hamish the opportunity to return to his spot in the funnel of light. Shuffling forward, eyes darting up and down the barren street, shoulder hunched over, arms wrapped around himself. He looked like any other throw away teen.

Within moments he felt the warm light against his skin. The glow from above made him feel secure, safe. False emotions that were as insincere as the warmth he was feeling.

Hamish’s body ached all over. It had been a long couple of days. He wanted to crawl back to his home, the squat in the abandoned building and to the mattress he had there, but there were a few more hours left in the night.

He rested his back against the wintry metal pole, shoulders back, leg crooked, lit a cigarette. For a time he allowed his eyes closed. As always the red brought back the memory of that first summer.

His grandad’s was a tall gruff man, black hair was streaked in silver, short stubble, crooked teeth, and wrinkles covered his face. The man never smiled, but Hamish could tell when he was happy from the glint in his eyes.

The house wasn’t meant to be a home. A small wooden batch with two bedrooms and a large living space. The bathroom was outside. It started its life as a simple summer batch. The dunes stretched out to the sea behind the house. Pocketed with tuffs of grass. Shrubs and grass stretched from the home, inland. The tallest thing for miles was the massive apple tree on the front lawn.

When he was a child, during the days he would spend them climbing the rough bark, tight branch walking until the trees limb almost broke. Giggling and laughing the tree became an amusement park, a castle, a magical kingdom, a fort. As he grew, his relationship with the tree changed. It offered a place of solitude, to hide alone with his thoughts. Becoming nothing more than a refuge. His grandfather got him into taking care of the tree. Making sure it roots weren’t coming up to high, it apples were picked and not littered the ground. Its leaves raked up. The work became everyday. Like his schooling, caring for that tree was an everyday part of his life. His grandfather did the best he could but his life was cut off from most of civilisation.

The rumble of an engine brought Hamish back to the grim street. The silver Land Cruiser all big and shiny rolled down the deserted street. Hamish watched it pass him by slowing to a stop. Red break lights came on and it reversed up stopping right in front of the lamp. As the wine of the passenger window rolled down Hamish sauntered over a counterfeit smile played across his face, as he came to rest his elbows on the frame, leaning his head inside.

Steel grey eyes peered at him. The blonde man was dressed in a charcoal suit. A white button down shirt with a matte black tie loosened at his collar. His hands had never left the steering wheel.

“It’s a little late being out on the street.” Came the deep husky voice.

“Only if you aren’t used to it. Me I feel more alive at night.” The lie was one he told often, his voice he made soft.

“And in this weather,” the man continued as if he hadn’t heard Hamish speak, “Dressed in jeans and a light coat. Not good for a boy so young.”

“Surprising what you can get used too.” Hamish shrugged and looked around the car. Wood panelling, leather seats, electric displays, the smell of fresh pine assaulted his nostrils. The vehicle was immaculate in every detail.

“There are something’s no one should get used.”

“Well I am sure you can give me a warm place. If only for a little while.”

The man’s stern cool exterior broke, and his face mirrored Hamish’s only his was genuine.

“I’m sure I could, but that isn’t what I’m looking for.”

“Oh well, that is okay too. It’s not expensive, if you’re looking for…”

I man shushed him “I ain’t looking for any of that either.”

A look of confusion crossed Hamish’s face, “then what can I do for you?”

The man reached into the back seat. A quick surge of fear flooded through Hamish until he heard the sound of rustling. The man came back over the seats with a bottle of water and an apple. He placed them in Hamish’s hands.

“You looked hungry, and I had these. Thought you might need them.” The grumble from Hamish’s stomach answered the man. He turned again, this time pulling out a huge overcoat, He patted down the pockets, pulling out several papers and a mobile phone. “And take this, winter is coming and you’re clothes wont keep you warm. This hope fully will get you through but you need something warmer.”

Hamish looked at the gifts in his hands. Generosity from a stranger that wanted nothing in return. It was something that he had never come across since coming to the big city.

“I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Hamish felt the man reach over across gently laying his cheek. A single drip fell from the top of the window landing on the back of his neck. The cold slipped under his skin slowly creating a shiver down his spine.

“Kid I don’t know what brought you out to these part but they aren’t anyplace for someone like you. If you got a home, no matter how bad it is, it can’t be worse than what you are doing to yourself out here. My advice, go home.”

Hamish stepped back and watched the window roll up, an emasculated youth stared back at him. Mousey brown hair was tangled and twisted. Dirt covered his face. Skin paler the snow. The boy looking at him was a stranger.

           The car moved off. Hamish watched it crawl down the street and turning the corner, a hush settled back over the street. He stared down at the apple in his hand, the red texture reminded him of the sunsets through the wispy leaves of the apple tree. Reminded him of his grandfather, the six years with him, they were some of the best years of his life.

Hamish unfolded the coat. It was black and several sizes too large. It hung over him in a way he assumed looked comical. Large pockets on the outside allowed him to slip in the water bottle. The sudden clink it made startled him. His hand slipped in the felt lining coming to rest on something metallic. The silver billfold, clasping several pounds and a egg shell business card had been left inside.

The money was enough to get him through the week. Enough to keep food in him for a while. Enough to give him a small measure of safety.  The apple in his other hand reminded him that it was also enough money to get him back to his beloved tree and his grandfather. He stood looking up and down the street.

A detonation of lightning light the sky, steeling Hamish’s decision. He turned and made his way home.