The End of the World

CHAPTER TWO



The Man in Black



Cast out by my parents, the only people I’d ever truly known – the only love I’d ever experienced – I ventured forth into the vast world beyond. For miles I walked and wandered; mile upon mile upon mile of dank, drab, rainy streets, all of it with a heavy heart and an indescribable sense of trepidation. It seemed never ending – a soul-destroying maze of concrete and asphalt. In truth, I believe it may only have been a matter of 900 yards or so…but I was tired and disoriented and it was getting dark. Everything seemed larger than life…exaggerated. Even the word exaggerated seemed like an exaggeration somehow.

My parents had sent me on my way with a small stipend and an enormous amount of love and goodwill. It didn’t take me long to realise, however, that this was the reverse of what I actually needed. Their good intentions notwithstanding, a certain degree of resentment had begun to set in. Had I been fully prepared for this? For instance: Common sense – a subject my father had given me countless lessons on, but the essence of which I was still at a loss to fully comprehend, since most of what he’d imparted related directly to his own particular life experience rather than some universal truth – did I have it? Could one even learn it? For the first time in my life I began to wonder if my parents were not, as I had always imagined them, the ultimate purveyors of the human experience. The very thought shook me to the core.

My father had left me with the words, “My lad, the world is now your oyster.” And indeed it was: grey, rather slimy, and a sense of something fishy going on in the background that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. My initial impressions were a far cry from the glamorous fantasy I’d been entertaining all these years. It certainly wasn’t anything like it was portrayed to be in all of the films I’d obsessively watch at any given opportunity. There the world was much brighter, far more vibrant, and certainly a lot more colourful. This all seemed rather washed out and monochromatic. And people, too. In films they always seemed to be acknowledging each other, waving or smiling and exchanging pleasantries, or at the very least intermingling. Here no one seemed to be aware of anyone but themselves. There had to be more to it than this pale imitation I saw before me. Clearly I needed to leave this place – to reach out to the far-flung corners of the earth where life still held some visceral sense of meaning, where the strange and unusual beckoned, where the exotic was waiting to be beheld, and where people weren’t afraid to look me in the eye…because, thus far on my travels, no one yet had.

That was until…

“Your money or your life!”

Suddenly and out of nowhere a strange figure jumped out at me from the darkness, dressed all in black and wearing a ski mask that covered all but two cold, angry-looking eyes. In his hand was a gun that was pointed directly at me. Stunned and disoriented, I struggled for words.

“I…I beg your pardon?” I muttered.

The stranger’s voice became louder and fiercer as he thrust the gun closer towards me.

“Your money or your life!” he barked.

“Is…is this a joke?”

He pointed the gun straight at my forehead. “What do you think?”

In my confusion and fear, I began babbling nervously.

“But…but who says that? I mean, this is a joke, right? I mean…I mean, who says that? Dick Turpin or…or Adam Ant, maybe? What’s that song? This is a joke, right? Who are you? What’s…what is this?”

His voice became low and menacing.

“Your wallet – now.”

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach faster than a lead balloon. This was no joke, my life was on the line, and I’d been rendered utterly powerless. Despite a million thoughts racing through my mind I couldn’t do or say anything – I simply froze.

Just as I heard the hard, metallic click of the gun being cocked, one of those racing thoughts finally did stop and planted itself firmly in the forefront of my mind – run!

I ran – ran as fast as I could through the darkness – hoping, running, frantic – keep running! Keep running! – If I could just move quick enough – get far enough away – run! – run! – keep going! – keep going! – into the darkness! Into the dark! Faster! Hurry! Hurry! Quick!

A shot rang out.

The ear-piercing sound echoed all around, bouncing from street to street in a show of power. Then there was silence. An artificial silence, as if the entire world around me was petrified of making a sound. After some time I became aware of the frantic sound of panting breath. Was he still out there in the darkness, out of breath yet determined to hunt me down? I crouched on the ground, huddled into a ball, and waited.

Then I realised that the sound of panting breath was coming from me. My mind was spinning. I couldn’t think. Everything had gone haywire. All of a sudden the world stopped making sense. Everything was black…cold.

Was this it? Was this life on the outside – danger behind every corner – something ready to jump out at you when you least expected it and throw your world into chaos? If it was, I’d been woefully ill-equipped for it. The nightly news and my mother’s eleventh-hour warnings aside, my expectations of life on planet earth had clearly and egregiously been sensationalised out of all recognition. I resolved, then and there, to bring my parents to account for this misleading impression and to hold their feet to the fire in determining just why I’d been force-fed a diet of misinformation for so long.

That would have to wait until tomorrow, however. In the present moment I was lost, frightened, far from home and in need of shelter. I settled upon a dubious-looking bed and breakfast establishment named, rather unnervingly, ‘The End of the World.’