Day 2 – A life Lived Through Stories: The Bombing Raid

Terry Harvey’s body lies there, sprawled over the broken bricks and Jimmy Summers smiles to himself as he puts the gun back into his pocket. The battle was over and though there were bodies everywhere, the enemy had been beaten.

He stands proudly over Terry’s body like a Sir Hilary atop of Everest. He was a hero; a somebody now. Everyone will know the name of Jimmy Summers.

Terry opens one eye and considers, for one moment, the possibility of attacking the unsuspecting Jimmy from below. Half a brick lies under his hand. He could easily launch it up to crack him over the head giving Terry enough time to leap up and smash in his skull, not stopping until brain starts to spew out and perhaps not even then.

But…these bricks are uncomfortable and the sun is going down and Terry realises he probably ought to be going home for his tea. This Nazi will have to wait another day to exact his revenge on the Englishman who must die.

Jimmy sees that Terry has opened his eyes now and extends his hand down to his. Terry takes it and allows the older boy to pull him up. They’ve known each other almost half their lives – at least four years – and Terry trusts his best friend not to let him drop back onto the rubble. As Terry steadies himself on the bricks the bodies of fallen soldiers disappear, fading back into their shared imaginations.

– them fookin briks urt ur bak –

Jimmy looks at his younger friend and sneers

– ur a bluddy wimp, that’s why –

– aye like yud no, I dunt see u lyin ded ont fukkers –

Jimmy sniffs.

– I cud if ar wunna but ar dunt wunna –

The boys stumble over the rubble towards what would have been the kitchen. You can tell because the gas pipes are sticking out of what remains of the wall. Terry looks up through the holes in the roof – there is no second floor left to block the view – and sees that night is coming soon. He gets a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, puts one in his mouth and pulls out the lighter he nicked from his mam’s handbag earlier.

– ere crash us wun will yur Jimmy? –

– ay git ur own fags u scabby fukker! –

– ar giz us wun will ya? –

– fuk orf u bugga –

But Jimmy gives him one anyway. He lights his own, puts the lighter back in his pocket and then, in time-honoured tradition, uses his cigarette to light Terry’s. You’re not an adult if you do it any other way.

To continue reading this story please buy the book ‘The Old Man on the Beach and other stories’ available January 2015.

 

Copyright © 2014 D K Powell

Source: gerryco23.wordpress.com

Related

Day 1 – A Life Lived Through Stories – Introduction

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23 thoughts on “Day 2 – A life Lived Through Stories: The Bombing Raid

  1. Can picture ‘big dick’ and the precinct 🙂
    Easier to speak the dialect than to read it though! Great read………you have me intrigued. More please 🙂

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    1. Ha ha well you can probably put more pictures to your mind as you read than other readers will Jacqui. More to come – one a day or thereabouts – for the whole of November! Hope you enjoyed this one even with the cumbersome dialect! 🙂

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  2. A very interesting type of story to start with! There are so many elements to think about in this one street they are playing in – great work with the setting!

    This may be a personal preference of mine but I feel sometimes a bit too much is given away. Otherwise great work, and cool dialect 👍!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Norah – I appreciate you taking the time to comment and encourage me. I’m impressed you managed the dialect – you’re English is truly amazing!

      I would love to hear more about your thought I gave ‘a bit too much’ away. Bearing in mind these are first (albeit polished) drafts and for the final versions selected for the book I will edit and amend what’s here, your thoughts could be really useful.

      Of course, I reserve the right to disagree! But even so, you will have given me a greater focus to be certain of what I wished to communicate. So please tell me a little more of your thoughts if you can spare the time 🙂

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      1. Yeah no problem… I just wish I had more time and actually got around to reading all of them!

        I’m pretty sure this is a matter of taste, so of course you may disagree 😛 .

        When I said giving too much away what I actually meant – and I should have explained, sorry for that :-/ – was that some things are explicitly stated in the story which might be somewhat superfluous. For example I would probably not mention that the place was a previous war zone, but instead describe the setting and let it speak for itself – I would let the reader her/himself figure out what had destroyed those streets and houses. It would strengthen the effect that the boys are used to this setting, if you get what I mean.

        Similar with the “Paki shop” they pass – even though it is interesting to know the background of the family who owned it, I would simply go for a setting that itself provokes/affects the reader.

        Once again this is purely a matter of taste. I think this short story otherwise is just like a short story should be, where “what is happening” might seem like the most ordinary thing in the world – two kids playing – but where there are a lot of messages and intertextuality/dialogue.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thanks Norah – I’ll consider over your thoughts when I edit the story. I will say one thing though: the houses probably weren’t bombed in the war…the mention in the story isn’t superfluous 😉

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