EXPERIMETAL
EXPERIMENTAL
DESIGN
Hand
drawn
journal
Hard carboard cover of A4 sketchbooks.
for
covers. any
type
CREATIVE WRITING
THE RAILWAY EVENING. It was already early evening when they arrived at the train track and through the brambles and the nettles they forged a route down the bank and on to the rails. With a heavy air of scepticism she said “What if a train comes?” The young man replied by saying, casually, “Then we move out of its way. But there won’t be any trains, they only run on the weekends”. Walking side by side, stepping on the concrete sleepers and carefully avoiding the stones between each one, there was the tremendous sense of achievement that one feels when doing something that not many people have ever done before. Especially when it’s connected to trespassing. They reached the bridge and climbed its high wall and sat looking out over the blue and grey expanse of the reservoir. “I wish I knew all the trees.” He said. She did not say anything. She just stared out at the water, awed by the golden, red haze of the fading sunlight. Now he was looking at her in the light and she looked beautiful in the light and he really felt the true gravity of that beauty, inside of him. She seemed to possess a pure and innocent intrigue for everything; the world just poured in through her zealous eyes and she recognised it all as beauty and this always fascinated him. He became aware of a feeling he recognised as something he had felt just once before, but he swallowed it before it grew. They threw rocks in the water and guessed at the height of the bridge and it was hard to tell but they agreed it was surely higher than a house. “What would you do if I fell in?” She asked. “I would jump in after you.” “But the shore is just there. I’d be fine.” “But if you were in there, I’d want to be in there too.” She did not say anything. He knew that he sometimes said things, little burst of almost how he feels or a fraction of what he wants to say and he was aware of the situation she was in and how unfair it was for him to say those things. He knew she couldn’t possibly give any sort of reply regardless of however much she wanted too. -1-
He looked at the water and she looked at him and she said she would give him anything he wanted if he could skim a stone on the water from this height. “Well...anything I am able to give.” She added. He collected a handful of the flattest stones he could find and made attempts to skim the stones but to no avail. He said “Isn’t it strange. These stones have been on the railroad for however long and now they’re in the water and they’ll never be up here again.” She climbed back down on to the tracks and said “I would probably just give you anything you wanted anyway”. He jumped down and wanted to walk up to her and turn her around and ask her if he could kiss her. He knew it wouldn’t be fair but he knew it would be perfect and he knew she knew that too. He wanted so very much to ask if he could kiss her. But he didn’t do anything. They continued along the tracks and she walked on the rails with her arm through his so she could balance. He stepped on the sleepers, sometimes missing and having to step on the uneven stones in between. They climbed amongst the abandoned train compartments and through empty freight boxes and under the carriages. Neither of them had been under a train carriage before; barely anyone has really. But now they have. She climbed to the top of an old tanker and he followed. There they sat together and watched the darkness spreading from the sky behind them, above them and slowly cascading in front of them as the trees he did not know the name of swallowed the dulling sun. “If I died, what would you do?” He said. She knew this conversation and it never felt morbid with him. She told him, honestly, that she would be distraught and cry, a lot, and not really know what to do. “Would you put some of my ashes in the secret garden?” “Are you asking me too?” “Yes, please.”
“I would go there all the time if you died.� She said. He looked at her again. She was genuinely one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen, inside and out. Not just in person but absolutely ever; anyone anywhere. He was sure of it. It overwhelmed him to think of it and he struggled to know how to express it and he just wanted to be consumed by her and to consume her and to be her, to live as her but to also be himself and admire her - to lift her up and worship her, somehow. It was getting late and they became aware of the darkness and the mosquitos were such a number that their humming was loud and they made their way back to the car. They did not speak but walked along the heavy sleepers and they felt light and they breathed heavy the warm, moist air and they knew that it would start to rain soon. END
OF
CHAPTER
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