Post by DavidMc on Dec 5, 2007 3:32:11 GMT -6
The Builders.
Simon finished laying the final roof tile and looked across to Gary.
“Well that’s another one finished”
It was early January and soon the rains would arrive, and when it rained in this part of Spain, it seemed to rain forever.
For Simon there was something magical about finishing a new building. Building was in his blood. He could remember as a boy his first visit to York Cathedral and gazing up in wonder at the shear majesty of it’s achievement. The scores of years and thousands of men it had taken to complete, and now climbing down from the roof of the newly completed villa, he imagined it to be his own mini Cathedral.
“You’re a real dreamer Simon.” Gary said as they walked back to their van
“Nothing wrong with dreaming. Sometimes dreams come true.”
Simon stared across the Campo and the light seemed to shimmer with the promise of dreams.
How had he come to be here at all. Three months ago he was labouring on a Manchester building site, and doing all the usual things any other 25 year old guy would do. He had a steady girlfriend, and he and Sally were planning to be engaged. They went to the bars, and the clubs. The Cinemas, and Simon had even managed to entice her to the odd football game.
Then something strange had happened. Simon had been returning home from his shift, but on entering the house had felt a strange atmosphere. His parents were not at home, but he could sense that there was somebody in the house. He turned up the lighting more but there was nobody there.
Later, after he had gone to bed, the feeling of a presence had still persisted, and it came as no surprise to eventually see the outline of a man standing beside the window. Simon felt no fear just curiosity.
“Can I help you?” an odd response perhaps, but this was an odd situation.
The man approached the bed and Simon could see he had a scar above his right eye. The man remained silent as he sat on the edge of the bed, but he reached out his hand and touched Simon lightly above the heart. Immediately he felt waves of electricity rolling through his body and a feeling akin to ecstasy. He felt transported through time and space into a dimension of pure being. The feeling seemed to last forever.
When Simon finally opened his eyes it was morning, and the grey northern light was filtering between the blinds.
The Man had gone.
Before Simon had had time to ponder these mysterious events, he was disturbed by the ringing telephone.
“Hi Simon, its Malcolm calling from Spain. Hope I didn’t wake you?”
It took a moment for Simon to register the nature of Malcolm.
“Uhh no, I was awake already..”
“You don’t remember me do you!” Malcolm’s laughter curled down the line.
“We were at St Aidan’s together, I was the skinny fellow with all the pimples. Filled out a bit since then. I had to I’m down here restoring a ruin. Does wonders for the muscles.”
And so that’s how Simon had arrived in Southern Spain helping a slight acquaintance restore his finca. Curiously Simon hadn’t hesitated.
“You can’t just bugger off and leave. What about our engagement plans!”
But perhaps even more curiously, Simon had felt no hesitation in abandoning Sally either
“It sounds a great project, really creative” had been his plea of mitigation. But it hadn’t washed and Simon could sense an ending.
It had been a great Summer and Simon and Malcolm had gelled really well, both as work mates and friends. There skills had meshed perfectly, and the laughs had been brilliant. Towards the completion of the building Malcolm’s friend Gary had joined the party, as there had been a delay in materials arriving for a villa he was working on further down the valley.
It had seemed natural that Simon and Gary would team up. And now the Villa was complete.
In the interim Sally had phoned to tell him she had found another bloke “Who didn’t prefer to hold a trowel.”
Simon sat now in his favourite bar, nursing a beer, and pondered his next move. Maybe he should return home to England. But he had begun to enjoy the life, and besides buildings were sprouting up all over the campo. He was sure to find work.
No sooner were these thoughts out of his head when three Men approached his table.
They introduced themselves as Dieter, Seamus and Clive. A curious troika Simon thought, be then again nothing surprised him these days.
“Seen you working in the valley, thought you might like to join the team” Dieter’s German accent was mixed with a peculiar scent of Australian “We’re converting the old olive mill into a rest home.”
Simon’s interest had been piqued. “I guess there’s a lot of old people roundabouts”
Dieter had chuckled softly. “No it is not that kind of establishment.. our accommodation is for people of a nervous kind who need peace and relaxation for awhile.”
They want me to help build a loony bin Simon thought quietly to himself, but what the hell the old olive mill was a beautiful building, something he could cherish.
The work progressed smoothly for the next two Months and Simon had never felt happier. It were as if he moulded himself into the fabric of the building, and he worked with a serenity he had never before experienced, as day upon day he could see the old mill’s natural beauty being restored.
Almost at completion Dieter announced that the first three residents would be arriving, and so three days later a car drew up and the occupants discharged. Curious to discover what ‘people of a nervous kind’ looked like. Simon observed the three men from a nearby window. Actually they looked quite normal. Except for….
The Man with the scar above his right eye. Suddenly Simon felt he was rolling down a long staircase…
Later after he had recovered somewhat Simon approached Dieter.
“The Man with the scar..?”
Dieter smiled. “That is Father Raymon.. an interesting case. He seems to be suffering from delusions. He began to tell his congregation that he was a saviour and a miracle worker; that he could manifest himself in remote locations. Of course he become an embarrassment to the diocese. So they decided a period of rest was required.”
Simon felt bewildered, and not a little afraid and spent the next night turning in his sleep playing over and over again his encounter with the scar faced Man back in Manchester.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe the deeper question but the following day while he was working on the roof of the mill he was startled by the sound of a shotgun behind him. The short hunting season had begun. Simon felt as though he had been shot through the heart and he began to fall backwards over the edge of the roof. An Angel without wings, the parched earth rushed to greet him.
Blackness.
The Corridor of Malaga City hospital was stiflingly hot. Visitors and patients alike melted. Amid the melee, a middle aged couple stood dazed straining to hear what the tall Doctor was saying.
“Your Son has severe head injuries… lesions on the brain, until he regains consciousness we cannot be sure …
The Doctor’s words melted in and out of Caroline Hunter’s consciousness. A week earlier She had entered her dining room. “Freddy I just called round to see Francis and…”
She had stopped in mid sentence at the sight of her husband holding the telephone receiver, pushing it away from him as though it were an evil entity. Fear had gripped her soul. Now they had been in Spain over a week, almost as long as Simon had been in a coma. They had both felt afraid and bewildered cast adrift in a foreign land, unable to speak the language and worst still not able to communicate with their Son.. Usually so practical, Freddy had turned remote seemingly unable to get a grip on what was happening.
If it hadn’t have been for that kind German Dieter, Caroline didn’t know what she would have done.
“leave everything to me Mrs Hunter.. Simon is one of our best workers, please be assured that when he is well enough to be moved he can convalesce at the home.”
Two weeks passed and although Simon was unable to Speak the Doctors assured Caroline that his speech would return. Eventually.
A Month after his fall Simon was wheeled into ‘Casa tranquilo’ to begin his journey back to reality. He spent long days teetering on the edge of consciousness; broken bottles in his mind and then slowly he begin to swim towards the surface through shards of liquid crystal emerging at last.
He was a child again, holding his Mother’s hand pushing through the crowds at York Minster, he could smell the incense and the devotional energy all around him. He walked down the nave, staring around in wonder its interior lit by huge and complicated expanses of glass and tracery. Suddenly his Mother had gone and he began to feel afraid. Looking around the cathedral was completely empty apart from one Man who beckoned him towards him.
“Don’t be frightened Simon I am here. In will always be here.”
And then the image faded, and Simon was back on the patio of ‘casa tranquilo’ looking out toward the distant Sierra. Each afternoon he would sit and Father Raymon would join him, and together they would communicate without words. Each understanding the other perfectly, and as the days began to shorten Simon understood that soon they would be leaving. Their work about to recommence, for they had many Cathedrals yet to build.
David McConville
Simon finished laying the final roof tile and looked across to Gary.
“Well that’s another one finished”
It was early January and soon the rains would arrive, and when it rained in this part of Spain, it seemed to rain forever.
For Simon there was something magical about finishing a new building. Building was in his blood. He could remember as a boy his first visit to York Cathedral and gazing up in wonder at the shear majesty of it’s achievement. The scores of years and thousands of men it had taken to complete, and now climbing down from the roof of the newly completed villa, he imagined it to be his own mini Cathedral.
“You’re a real dreamer Simon.” Gary said as they walked back to their van
“Nothing wrong with dreaming. Sometimes dreams come true.”
Simon stared across the Campo and the light seemed to shimmer with the promise of dreams.
How had he come to be here at all. Three months ago he was labouring on a Manchester building site, and doing all the usual things any other 25 year old guy would do. He had a steady girlfriend, and he and Sally were planning to be engaged. They went to the bars, and the clubs. The Cinemas, and Simon had even managed to entice her to the odd football game.
Then something strange had happened. Simon had been returning home from his shift, but on entering the house had felt a strange atmosphere. His parents were not at home, but he could sense that there was somebody in the house. He turned up the lighting more but there was nobody there.
Later, after he had gone to bed, the feeling of a presence had still persisted, and it came as no surprise to eventually see the outline of a man standing beside the window. Simon felt no fear just curiosity.
“Can I help you?” an odd response perhaps, but this was an odd situation.
The man approached the bed and Simon could see he had a scar above his right eye. The man remained silent as he sat on the edge of the bed, but he reached out his hand and touched Simon lightly above the heart. Immediately he felt waves of electricity rolling through his body and a feeling akin to ecstasy. He felt transported through time and space into a dimension of pure being. The feeling seemed to last forever.
When Simon finally opened his eyes it was morning, and the grey northern light was filtering between the blinds.
The Man had gone.
Before Simon had had time to ponder these mysterious events, he was disturbed by the ringing telephone.
“Hi Simon, its Malcolm calling from Spain. Hope I didn’t wake you?”
It took a moment for Simon to register the nature of Malcolm.
“Uhh no, I was awake already..”
“You don’t remember me do you!” Malcolm’s laughter curled down the line.
“We were at St Aidan’s together, I was the skinny fellow with all the pimples. Filled out a bit since then. I had to I’m down here restoring a ruin. Does wonders for the muscles.”
And so that’s how Simon had arrived in Southern Spain helping a slight acquaintance restore his finca. Curiously Simon hadn’t hesitated.
“You can’t just bugger off and leave. What about our engagement plans!”
But perhaps even more curiously, Simon had felt no hesitation in abandoning Sally either
“It sounds a great project, really creative” had been his plea of mitigation. But it hadn’t washed and Simon could sense an ending.
It had been a great Summer and Simon and Malcolm had gelled really well, both as work mates and friends. There skills had meshed perfectly, and the laughs had been brilliant. Towards the completion of the building Malcolm’s friend Gary had joined the party, as there had been a delay in materials arriving for a villa he was working on further down the valley.
It had seemed natural that Simon and Gary would team up. And now the Villa was complete.
In the interim Sally had phoned to tell him she had found another bloke “Who didn’t prefer to hold a trowel.”
Simon sat now in his favourite bar, nursing a beer, and pondered his next move. Maybe he should return home to England. But he had begun to enjoy the life, and besides buildings were sprouting up all over the campo. He was sure to find work.
No sooner were these thoughts out of his head when three Men approached his table.
They introduced themselves as Dieter, Seamus and Clive. A curious troika Simon thought, be then again nothing surprised him these days.
“Seen you working in the valley, thought you might like to join the team” Dieter’s German accent was mixed with a peculiar scent of Australian “We’re converting the old olive mill into a rest home.”
Simon’s interest had been piqued. “I guess there’s a lot of old people roundabouts”
Dieter had chuckled softly. “No it is not that kind of establishment.. our accommodation is for people of a nervous kind who need peace and relaxation for awhile.”
They want me to help build a loony bin Simon thought quietly to himself, but what the hell the old olive mill was a beautiful building, something he could cherish.
The work progressed smoothly for the next two Months and Simon had never felt happier. It were as if he moulded himself into the fabric of the building, and he worked with a serenity he had never before experienced, as day upon day he could see the old mill’s natural beauty being restored.
Almost at completion Dieter announced that the first three residents would be arriving, and so three days later a car drew up and the occupants discharged. Curious to discover what ‘people of a nervous kind’ looked like. Simon observed the three men from a nearby window. Actually they looked quite normal. Except for….
The Man with the scar above his right eye. Suddenly Simon felt he was rolling down a long staircase…
Later after he had recovered somewhat Simon approached Dieter.
“The Man with the scar..?”
Dieter smiled. “That is Father Raymon.. an interesting case. He seems to be suffering from delusions. He began to tell his congregation that he was a saviour and a miracle worker; that he could manifest himself in remote locations. Of course he become an embarrassment to the diocese. So they decided a period of rest was required.”
Simon felt bewildered, and not a little afraid and spent the next night turning in his sleep playing over and over again his encounter with the scar faced Man back in Manchester.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe the deeper question but the following day while he was working on the roof of the mill he was startled by the sound of a shotgun behind him. The short hunting season had begun. Simon felt as though he had been shot through the heart and he began to fall backwards over the edge of the roof. An Angel without wings, the parched earth rushed to greet him.
Blackness.
The Corridor of Malaga City hospital was stiflingly hot. Visitors and patients alike melted. Amid the melee, a middle aged couple stood dazed straining to hear what the tall Doctor was saying.
“Your Son has severe head injuries… lesions on the brain, until he regains consciousness we cannot be sure …
The Doctor’s words melted in and out of Caroline Hunter’s consciousness. A week earlier She had entered her dining room. “Freddy I just called round to see Francis and…”
She had stopped in mid sentence at the sight of her husband holding the telephone receiver, pushing it away from him as though it were an evil entity. Fear had gripped her soul. Now they had been in Spain over a week, almost as long as Simon had been in a coma. They had both felt afraid and bewildered cast adrift in a foreign land, unable to speak the language and worst still not able to communicate with their Son.. Usually so practical, Freddy had turned remote seemingly unable to get a grip on what was happening.
If it hadn’t have been for that kind German Dieter, Caroline didn’t know what she would have done.
“leave everything to me Mrs Hunter.. Simon is one of our best workers, please be assured that when he is well enough to be moved he can convalesce at the home.”
Two weeks passed and although Simon was unable to Speak the Doctors assured Caroline that his speech would return. Eventually.
A Month after his fall Simon was wheeled into ‘Casa tranquilo’ to begin his journey back to reality. He spent long days teetering on the edge of consciousness; broken bottles in his mind and then slowly he begin to swim towards the surface through shards of liquid crystal emerging at last.
He was a child again, holding his Mother’s hand pushing through the crowds at York Minster, he could smell the incense and the devotional energy all around him. He walked down the nave, staring around in wonder its interior lit by huge and complicated expanses of glass and tracery. Suddenly his Mother had gone and he began to feel afraid. Looking around the cathedral was completely empty apart from one Man who beckoned him towards him.
“Don’t be frightened Simon I am here. In will always be here.”
And then the image faded, and Simon was back on the patio of ‘casa tranquilo’ looking out toward the distant Sierra. Each afternoon he would sit and Father Raymon would join him, and together they would communicate without words. Each understanding the other perfectly, and as the days began to shorten Simon understood that soon they would be leaving. Their work about to recommence, for they had many Cathedrals yet to build.
David McConville
