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Within The Fading Light.

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This is a prose/story based on the lyric of 'There Is A Light That Never Goes Out' by The Smiths. (Original lyric at the bottom.)


Within The Fading Light.

‘I remember that night; I remember making that request. A request to be far from here a deep desire to escape this fear. I looked at her straight in the eyes, as I ran my longing fingers up her soft inner thigh, and I turned to her and I said 'Take me out.”
She just returned my gaze, her mouth open but unsure what to say, so I repeated my words, my request, “Take me out, take me out tonight.”
She looked to the window for a moment, looking beyond it to the night outside, and asked “Where?”
“Somewhere where there is a pulse, a beat, a musical beat,” I told her, “somewhere...” I paused and thought, “Where there are people. And those people, those beautiful people are young and...”
“Alive?” She asked.
“Yeah, alive.” The word 'alive' itself bringing life to my words, excitement to my soul, and visions of disco divas and funky kings, lost to the music around them, silhouetted against a sea of coloured lights. I gazed at that vision for a moment, jealous of those people, those young and alive people.
“You remember when we were out last night?” I asked her, “when we were driving in your car, cutting through the countryside, and losing ourselves to the forest and the night around us.” My descriptive ways giving my words more flavor to savor
“Yeah,” she answered, “of course I do. It was less than 24 hours ago,” she added with a sly smile.
“I didn't wanna come home. I never wanted to come home.”
“Why?” She asked, concern within her voice.
“Cos...” I paused, taking a moment to be sure of I was about to say, “cos I haven't got one. I haven't got a home anymore.”
She said nothing, she didn't know what to say, and she didn't wanna say what she was expected to say, she hated clichés.
“So take me out,” I asked once more, “take me out tonight.”
“But it's late, and I am tired and...” her voice trailed off for a moment as she wrapped her arms around my waist and fell into my lap, her head resting on my groin, “and I just wanna be here alone with you.”
“I know you do, but I want to see people, I need to see life.”
“We are people,” she responded using her wit to try and raise my spirits, “we are life.” She unwrapped her arms, rolling over, turning to face me, “we don't need anyone else.”
“I do,” I said with clarity, “right now I do.”
“But...”
“You know,” I added quickly wanting to halt her protest, “when we were out in your car last night, I kept thinking to myself, please don't drop me home, please don't bring me back to this place.” I looked at her, her glistening eyes reflecting my emotions, her silence adding profoundness to her gaze, “Cos it is not my home, it is their home, and I am not welcome.” I paused reflecting on the troubles of that previous night, the prelude to my going out, “I am not welcome anymore.” I added, sadness within my words and voice, and I watched that tear escape from her eyes, trickle via a wrinkle to the side of her face, and fall disappearing into my lap.
“I kept thinking that,” my candidacy getting the better of me, “that if a double-decker bus, took a corner too fast, and slid in the wetness of the night, crashing into us.” I paused, taking note of the shock in her eyes, but ignoring it over the truth. She needed to know, “To die by your side would...”
“Die!” she interrupted, the shock now evident within her interruption.
“Yeah.” I answered needing to get this out of me, “it would be such a heavenly place to die.”
“But why die?” she asked concerned.
But I chose to ignore the question, looking over to the window, to avoid her inquiring eyes. “There was one moment, when I saw a ten-tonne truck looming over us, and I so wanted it to be the specter of death,” I continued, a thread of excitement within my desire to tell, “and I thought that if the wind took it, as we crossed the bridge, and it just rolled, rolled upon us like the unfolding of a blanket, it would kill us, and to be there, sharing the one and only experience of death together, the pleasure…” I paused, and then back-tracked, “no, the privilege, yeah the privilege, the privilege would be mine.”
I turned my attention back to her, and looked at her for a moment, a tear from my own eye falling and mixing with hers, before it fell like so many others before it, into my lap. “You understand?” I asked, the desire for her to, too obvious in my voice, and she nodded, not needing to answer in any other way.

Then we were in her car. How we got here, how much time had passed escapes me now? All I remember is that we were there within the room, and then we were there within the car.
She fired up the engine, it's willingness to run, to disappear into the night, echoing mine.
She turned to me, she said “Where?” And I just sat there looking ahead, looking into the distance and I said, “Anywhere, I don't care.” And with those words still lingering in the space between us, she eased her right foot from the clutch, and put pressure on the accelerator with her left.
With streets falling behind us and becoming the past, we finally released ourselves from the confines of the town, the suburbs and the villages beyond. I opened the window to feel the country air rushing by, ruffling my hair and cleansing my mind, my thinking becoming clearer and I knew what I had to do. I had to wait for the right moment, but I knew what I had to do.
It was in the darkness of the underpass that I saw ‘the chance’. It was a long underpass, the best part of a mile I would imagine, but then maybe it just felt that way. Cos for a moment, a brief period, time seemed to slow down, as if to give me time, a clearer way of thinking, and the chance to do it right, correctly. Then I saw it, I saw ‘the chance’, the flashing lights of the roadwork’s highlighting ‘the chance’, as if it was a Westend Show. But there was no audience there, there were no critics or observers, there was just us and the other star of the show. The other driver. The faceless, nameless, shapeless stranger who would play an integral role.
I watched, my excitement building, becoming hard to contain, my eyes fixed to the barrier and the lorry ahead, glancing between them like a snooker player lining up a shot. I saw the gap, where the barrier had been removed, the open mouth ready and waiting to swallow us, to take us in, to place us where the lorry would not be able to avoid us, It was getting closer, and I could taste the carnage, the metal, the smoke, the fumes, the blood, and I glance to her, my words poised.
But then something gripped me, something deep inside rose from within me and clasped a hand over my mouth. Some fear poisoned my thinking, threw doubt within it, and confused me. I open my mouth, but my voice was not willing, and not a single sound passed my lips, and I couldn't ask. And the moment passed us. I just sat there and watched ‘the chance’ sailed by with the passing of he lorry.
I sank back into my seat and breathed a sign of relief. But of what I was relieved of, I did not know. And the fear crawled back inside, curled up by the fire of anger and slept once more. All returned to before. And then underpass ended, and the dark sky of the night once more became our backdrop.
She glanced at me, unaware of what had just happened, unaware of how close we were, and she said, “Have you figured where to go yet?”
“No.” I answered with confidence, and added, “I don't care as I said before. Just somewhere where, no one knows our faces, no one knows our names, no one knows our histories, no one know from where we came. Somewhere where we can hide in the shadows, and watch life from the sidelines.”
“So somewhere, and nowhere.” She replied with a grin.
“Yeah,” I confirmed, gracing my own face with a smile, to share in that moment of humor. “All I know is, I don't wanna go home, I can't go home, cos I don't have one.” I sat back closing my eyes, hoping to sleep away our journey.’

The Detective rose and paced. The light from the window, creating a shadow that stretched across the room. He stood before the window, his hands casually held in his trouser pockets, and he glanced out. It had been his idea, his suggestion to bring me here, as opposed to questioning me in a interview room. They had done that, and I had not been willing.
'Fantastic story, and I am sure you believe it. Every word of it.' He paused and turned to look at me. 'But I need the truth. I need to know what actually happened there in the underpass.'
I returned his gaze, and looked deep into his eyes. I hadn't finished what I needed to say. 'There is a light that never goes out,' I then uttered as if to myself at first, repeating it with confidence. 'There is a light that never goes out. There is a light that never goes out. A light, a light that never goes out.'
'There is a light that never goes out?' the Detective repeated, puzzlement within his voice, 'What do you mean?'
'There is a light that never goes out,' I said once more, before adding 'it just fades into passing.'
 

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There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's people
And they're young and alive
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven't got one
Anymore

Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people and I
Want to see life
Driving in your car
Oh, please don't drop me home
Because it's not my home, it's their
Home, and I'm welcome no more

And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine

Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care
And in the darkened underpass
I thought Oh God, my chance has come at last
(But then a strange fear gripped me and I
Just couldn't ask)

Take me out tonight
Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven't got one, da ...
Oh, I haven't got one

And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine

Oh, There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out

Comments (1)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

This story has it all, intimacy, intrigue, mystery, depth, reality, fantasy all bundle together. I really did enjoy it from beginning to end. You did an incredible job on this and I always love the way the story is a preamble to the poem. Great work.

Vangoman
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