Tell A Tale in 500 Words
The Strangest Evening By Scott Fitzgerald
Tonight I’m standing outside having a fag before I wander off to bed. The air is fresh, but not cold. There's a scent of perfume from the blossoming trees in my garden and those that line the road on which I live. It's dark and the only light comes from the stark blurred bulbs of street lamps.
I'm still smoking and enjoying it, wondering how I came to enjoy a pastime that increases my chances of a terminal disease.
The silence is interrupted by a bloke screaming as loud as he can, 'fucking come here!' 'Cry if you fucking want I don't care'.
I look up and before I’ve thought of what to do, I’m walking up my driveway to see what's happening.
I want it to be nothing.
A misunderstanding. An event that needs no intervention.
I look up the road and the shouting continues, only now there's a girl’s voice whimpering in the background.
This doesn't appear good. I decide to stare down the road. Make sure they know someone’s there, just in case he was thinking of doing something that wasn't nice. I see his figure in the distance, only now he's seen me and stops shouting.
But he's still walking, and towards me.
I decide to retreat into my drive, and as soon as I turn, he's shouting again; only this time it's 'fuck, you' 'go on fuck off' 'I’m not your fucking boyfriend - fuck off'. I hear her crying again, and I mutter to myself 'ah well, I guess a chat about the error of his ways, over a tea is probably too much to hope for'.
I find a wall to put down my fags; I don't mind a broken nose, but breaking a very full packet of fags will annoy me.
I walk back to the end of the drive and I’m waiting, and he's still shouting - but getting nearer.
And I’m waiting.
A young spaced guy, charges past me. I turn to stare at him but he ignores me.
When he's about 20 paces past me he starts shouting, again 'fuck off' 'just fuck off'. I wait just in case she's in trouble; she might be hurt; she might need a taxi; she'll more than likely slap me and tell me to mind my own fucking business!
She passes me, struggling to walk in the most ridiculous high heels you've ever seen, which breaks the tension.
She's crying like a child that wants the most expensive pony in the paddock, just because it's the most expensive.
And they're gone.
What do you do? Do you help, where your help may not be needed - take the chance? Or just walk away? Convince yourself that you're just looking after yourself - it's what anyone else would do.
As it is, he was trying to get as far away from her as possible. And she just followed.
I think I’d have probably got a slap from both of them
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