‘That was a long way!’ Thomas thought.
He sat up slowly, feeling bruised and sore, and became aware that the coconut had disappeared.
‘I must have dropped it’, he assumed.
Then he looked around. He blinked a couple of times, and took another look. He was gazing into a room, with 2 tall backed seats covered in floral patterns, facing a television, and stood on thick cream carpets. On the beige walls hung pictures of children, some black and white, and some modern day. The room was of average size, with a pine display cabinet and matching table and chairs. It was Thomas’ grandparent’s drawing room. He glanced down. He was filthy, he skin stained black.
‘Soot’, he muttered as he realised he was sat in the fireplace.
He crawled out carefully, dreading what his grandmother would say when she saw the black mess on her carpet. As if reading his mind, his grandmother entered the room.
‘Hi Grandma’, he said weakly.
She ignored him. She walked straight past him and sat down in the chair that was positioned next to the fireplace. The television was on and she was watching it, so Thomas stood in her line of vision and crouched to her eye level. She was looking straight past him. She could not see him, nor hear him. He went to find his Granddad, who was outside in the garage cleaning his tools. It had been snowing and the temperature was almost freezing. Thomas realised he was only dressed in his shorts and t-shirt which he had worn on the island. He grabbed his Granddad’s old coat on the way out.
‘Granddad?’ he called quietly at first.
‘Granddad!’ louder this time.
There was no reply. His grandfather did not look up from his tools. Thomas made his way across the garage, purposely stomping and rustling the coat, trying to make as much noise as possible. There was still no response. Thomas gave up. He headed back towards the house, shuffling his feet through the snow on the driveway, which filled his trainers and froze his toes. He climbed the stairs slowly and paused at the back door, hand on handle, pondering his situation.
‘No one can see me, no one can hear me’, he whispered to himself.
He glanced back towards the garage, and noticed his father’s old motocross bike propped up against the wall, covered in a dusty old tarpaulin. A huge grin appeared on Thomas’ face. He ran back across the garden, yanked the sheet off of the bike and kick-started the motor. It worked first time.
‘Just like Dad always said it did!’ he smiled to himself, imagining his Dad on this very bike when he was Thomas’ age.
Thomas pulled a helmet onto his head; his grandfather had many lined up on a book shelf in the garage. He climbed onto the bike and forced it into gear. He exited the garage, inching the bike along the driveway, nervous at first. He remembered his grandparents lived in a cul-de-sac, and took the opportunity to gain his confidence by doing some laps up and down the road. Around the corner, only a couple of streets away, there was a large park with an area dedicated to sand jumps, and Thomas was determined to give it a go.
He arrived and the park was empty.
‘Not that it matters’ he thought, ‘they probably wouldn’t be able to see me anyway!’
He rode around the track, circling in and out of the carefully placed trees and bushes. He got used to the feel of the bike, to the suspension, to the sand under the wheels. The sun was dropping in the sky, and the headlamp on the bike was showing its age. Thomas was aware he would have to do this now or not at all that night. He approached the edge of the sandy ramp and pulled back his throttle even further. He built up speed, he travelled quicker and quicker and reached the top of the ramp and became airborne. But Thomas was so overwhelmed and excited by the prospect of the jump, he hadn’t anticipated his landing. As he hit the ground once more, his mind swirled with panic and he confused his hands. The bike swerved sideways, the back wheel reaching around the bike and the handle bars locked. Thomas was flung across the park as he let go of the bike, and landed in a crumpled heap in a nearby bush. The bike tumbled to the ground in a cloud of sand and dirt, crashing into the wall that surrounded the park. Thomas twitched. His eyelids flickered. And then he was still.
He sat up slowly, feeling bruised and sore, and became aware that the coconut had disappeared.
‘I must have dropped it’, he assumed.
Then he looked around. He blinked a couple of times, and took another look. He was gazing into a room, with 2 tall backed seats covered in floral patterns, facing a television, and stood on thick cream carpets. On the beige walls hung pictures of children, some black and white, and some modern day. The room was of average size, with a pine display cabinet and matching table and chairs. It was Thomas’ grandparent’s drawing room. He glanced down. He was filthy, he skin stained black.
‘Soot’, he muttered as he realised he was sat in the fireplace.
He crawled out carefully, dreading what his grandmother would say when she saw the black mess on her carpet. As if reading his mind, his grandmother entered the room.
‘Hi Grandma’, he said weakly.
She ignored him. She walked straight past him and sat down in the chair that was positioned next to the fireplace. The television was on and she was watching it, so Thomas stood in her line of vision and crouched to her eye level. She was looking straight past him. She could not see him, nor hear him. He went to find his Granddad, who was outside in the garage cleaning his tools. It had been snowing and the temperature was almost freezing. Thomas realised he was only dressed in his shorts and t-shirt which he had worn on the island. He grabbed his Granddad’s old coat on the way out.
‘Granddad?’ he called quietly at first.
‘Granddad!’ louder this time.
There was no reply. His grandfather did not look up from his tools. Thomas made his way across the garage, purposely stomping and rustling the coat, trying to make as much noise as possible. There was still no response. Thomas gave up. He headed back towards the house, shuffling his feet through the snow on the driveway, which filled his trainers and froze his toes. He climbed the stairs slowly and paused at the back door, hand on handle, pondering his situation.
‘No one can see me, no one can hear me’, he whispered to himself.
He glanced back towards the garage, and noticed his father’s old motocross bike propped up against the wall, covered in a dusty old tarpaulin. A huge grin appeared on Thomas’ face. He ran back across the garden, yanked the sheet off of the bike and kick-started the motor. It worked first time.
‘Just like Dad always said it did!’ he smiled to himself, imagining his Dad on this very bike when he was Thomas’ age.
Thomas pulled a helmet onto his head; his grandfather had many lined up on a book shelf in the garage. He climbed onto the bike and forced it into gear. He exited the garage, inching the bike along the driveway, nervous at first. He remembered his grandparents lived in a cul-de-sac, and took the opportunity to gain his confidence by doing some laps up and down the road. Around the corner, only a couple of streets away, there was a large park with an area dedicated to sand jumps, and Thomas was determined to give it a go.
He arrived and the park was empty.
‘Not that it matters’ he thought, ‘they probably wouldn’t be able to see me anyway!’
He rode around the track, circling in and out of the carefully placed trees and bushes. He got used to the feel of the bike, to the suspension, to the sand under the wheels. The sun was dropping in the sky, and the headlamp on the bike was showing its age. Thomas was aware he would have to do this now or not at all that night. He approached the edge of the sandy ramp and pulled back his throttle even further. He built up speed, he travelled quicker and quicker and reached the top of the ramp and became airborne. But Thomas was so overwhelmed and excited by the prospect of the jump, he hadn’t anticipated his landing. As he hit the ground once more, his mind swirled with panic and he confused his hands. The bike swerved sideways, the back wheel reaching around the bike and the handle bars locked. Thomas was flung across the park as he let go of the bike, and landed in a crumpled heap in a nearby bush. The bike tumbled to the ground in a cloud of sand and dirt, crashing into the wall that surrounded the park. Thomas twitched. His eyelids flickered. And then he was still.
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