Friday, 5 August 2016

The Wall: Part Five


It was getting dark in the bunker--the artificial lights had become dimmer, Peter noted, raising his head.  He looked around.  Rajesh was fast asleep; Winston and Quentin were snoring.  They sound like lawnmowers, Peter thought, chuckling to himself.  He fancied a walk; he got up, quietly, so he wouldn't disturb the others.

He walked without any sense of purpose or direction, and soon he found himself facing the door to Rose's room.  He looked around, startled.  The bunker was completely dark now, save the small, twinkling lights in the floor.  One light flickered, and then glowed brightly again.  He turned around, and listened carefully--he heard footsteps.

Another light flickered.

"Hello?" he ventured tentatively towards the flickering lights.

"Who's there?" A girl's voice.

"Rose?"

"Peter?  What are you doing here...right now?"

"I could ask you the same question," he smirked, "Wanna walk?"

"Sure.  I can't see where you are, though, so I would probably bump into you accidentally-on-purpose."

Peter laughed softly.

They followed the flickering lights as they walked.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, you decide."

"I'm not a very interesting person, you know.  I'd rather listen to people than talk about myself."

"I don't believe that.  Have you ever been to France?"

"Yeah!"

"Then you're interesting."

He could almost see her grinning in the faint light.

"What's it like in France?" he continued.

"It's beautiful.  You have museums, art galleries, amusement parks, great restaurants, great hotels....great everything.  The Louvre is, like, amazing.  So many famous paintings, all in one place!  Just like The Pantheon."

"What's the Pantheon?  Another art muse--?"

"Ssh, do you hear that?" Rose whispered.

"No, I don't, where's it coming from?"

"It sounded like water," Rose took his hand and led him forward, "and it must have been somewhere around.." she walked a few steps to the right, stepping on his toe; he winced. "Sorry about that...here."

They squinted into the darkness.  There were no floor-lights here.  The dripping sound was now close.

Too close.

Inspiration.

Days pass by My pen has dried up My papers are crumpled My mind is caged Words no longer flow freely My thoughts battle with themselves...